Kaleidoscope Hearts
by NeoNails
Summary: "Hey, you okay?" Annie's voice somehow floated through to his brain.  "Well," he replied.  "I'm not dead, as far as I can tell."
1. Veritas Aequitas

So… hey, guys. I'm not dead. Whoo.

However, we've got some bad news, some worse news, and some slightly good news. I'm not gonna bother counting hands and just assume you'll want the bad news first, which is that while I'm back, I'm not actually _back_. I'm still battling a really heavy case of writer's block, which is worse than usual because I've stopped writing completely, something I haven't done in years. But I'm not going to force myself to write what I know is subpar and just disappoint everyone.

The worse news is that, unfortunately, I took down _Gotta Be Dante's Circles_. Everyone's reception to it was _amazing_, but after several months of me reading it and rereading it and thinking about what I want to do with it I realized something… it kinda sucks. Pretty hard.

Now, you guys can disagree with that and if a few of you (that have ff accounts) want a copy of the 5 chapters I finished, you're welcome to them. But I noticed that everybody and their mother has done the Auggie and Annie meets his family storyline and mine isn't that spectacular in the long run, and I'd rather get rid of it than leave it up here for you guys to read and wonder why I never got back to it.

Okay. We got the mildly depressing shit out of the way, on to the good stuff. This is something new, always a positive. It's short. But something. I really haven't accomplished much in the last few months, so anything is a vast improvement.

Ironically, I'm getting rid of a piece of ff and replacing it with something else that has also been overdone (and done way better), in the form of the Word of the Day.

I will tell you flat-out that I have no plans of posting a Word of the Day every day. I just don't have that time or that energy or (worst of all) that creativity at the moment. But I will try to when I have time, and I have plans of finally wrapping up the last nine oneshots for _Don't Call It a Comeback_.

$4$

**Quaff:** (v.) to drink a beverage, especially an intoxicating one, copiously and with hearty enjoyment.

(Too appropriate for St. Patrick's Day.)

**

* * *

**

Annie eyed the coffee table one last time, surveying the wacky display set out before her. "I'm still not sure about this, Aug," she said hesitantly.

"What? You never play a drinking game before?" he asked, smiling obnoxiously wide as he poured each of them a shot of Patrón.

"Not since college," she admitted as she picked up the glossy DVD box. "And certainly not with movies. We did normal illegal drinking games. Like beer pong."

He chuckled at her perceived innocence (not really), and replied, "Movie drinking games are a staple, and on St. Patrick's Day it's more or less mandated. Especially when it's this movie."

"I've never even _heard_ of this movie until you," she said, setting the box down and staring at him. When he invited her over to his place for a little St. Patty's Day bonding, she knew full-well it would involve a healthy amount of booze. But she hadn't expected the booze to come with rules and an oddly titled movie.

"How have you never seen _Boondock Saints_? It's about Boston, the Irish, and kicking ass. What more could you ask for?"

Annie stared at him incredulously, even though he couldn't even see her (just to satisfy her own need). "You're bizarre," she finally said slowly. After a long, tense moment where he was grinning wildly in her direction and she was trying to understand why he was such a whackadoodle, she added, "So how is this game played?"

Auggie chuckled, like he knew what her answer would be from the beginning. "The game is easy- every time someone says 'fuck' during the movie, we take a shot."

She nodded for maybe half a second and then stopped. "How frequently do they say 'fuck' during the movie?"

A very dangerous (and only slightly sexy) smile slid across his face. "Watch the movie, Walker," he said. "And prepare to be drunk under the table."

Annie narrowed her eyes. It was on.

$4$

Just finished watching _Boondock Saints_ with a roommate and while (technically) St. Patrick's Day is now over, I still suggest watching it. It's a fun, quirky as hell action movie. Plus, cute guys with Irish accents. :)

And I was actually talking about the real-life drinking game for this movie with the same roommate earlier in the day and decided I couldn't pass it up considering the Word of the Day.

Sorry again for sort of leaving you guys in the dust. I'm not totally back yet, but I think I will be soon.


	2. Distracted

Okay… So this is my second attempt at getting back into _Covert Affairs_ via Word of the Day. I'm seriously hoping the start of the new season next week (I know I complained that it seemed so far away, but can anyone seriously tell me where the _hell_ this year went?) will start my drive back into writing. I mentioned earlier that I lost all desire to write (which is true), but almost all of it I attribute to a lot of not so great stuff that's been going on in my life. I'm not going to get into the nitty-gritty details, but it amounts to I'm fairly certain I had a minor case of depression going on and it affected what I love most in this world: writing.

I'm not trying to be melodramatic or get anyone's sympathy points—I'm fine, and (in my opinion) I'm extremely lucky that what was going only affected my ability to write, and not anything significantly more important, like my grades or day-to-day living.

Anyway, I do have a job for the summer (specifically an internship at this PR firm near me—cannot even begin to gush about how awesome it is) so writing may still be spotty. But I'm really, really going to try and get back to my old self. :)

$4$

**Décolleté:** (adj.) wearing a low-necked garment.

* * *

She really needed to knock this shit off.

She didn't even know why she was doing it in the first place—it's not like it could actually make a difference.

And she had plenty else to wear—careful shopping guidelines instilled by her mother ensured that she always found the best deal, without losing the glory of owning a pair of Louboutins. There were plenty of other shirts, blouses, and dresses in her wardrobe that she could be wearing.

But every time she got up in the morning, she couldn't help it. She naturally gravitated towards her _other_ tops and dresses, and always with his face in the back of her brain as she threw on another scoop neck dress or low-cut top. Nothing she ever wore was outright inappropriate—she still had to go to work and do whatever was required of her that day for the CIA.

She never dressed like a hussy… she just dressed with a certain person in mind.

Which, when you considered the facts, only made her wardrobe selections that much sadder. She could show up one day in her birthday suit and he wouldn't be the wiser. Seducing a guy with clothes that highlighted her assets was significantly more redundant when he could actually see said shirts.

And there was that infinitesimal hitch wherein they were best friends and she was certain she would forever be locked in the friend zone. He relied on her for booze and laughs and the occasional free ride to pick up extra groceries, not an actual relationship. And as depressing as that thought was, she wasn't quite ready to give up on what her brain marked as a futile battle. Which was where the shirts came in.

"So, I heard around the water cooler that you look quite fetching today, Annie my dear."

Hearing any grown man use the term _fetching_—and correctly, no less—was amusing, but hearing it from Auggie was enough to make her snort into her mug of beer as they sat at their table in Allen's. Probably not the wisest reaction when she was only wearing the _fetching_ outfit to catch his attention, but she was his best friend first and old habits die hard.

"I'm dressed like I always am," she replied carefully, after she had managed to quell her laughter and avoid snorting her beer all over the table—extremely sexy.

"Not according to two guys from the seventh floor that needed data—real charmers, I might add," he said. "They seemed fairly smitten with you."

Again, that unladylike snort, this time coupled with a definitive shake of her head. "What do you expect? They're seventh floor guys. You know how they are."

He seemed to mull that over as he took another swig of beer, but only for a second. "Hmm, well that works and it doesn't," he told her vaguely.

"How does it not work?"

"Because I happen to believe that you got all dressed up for someone."

Annie froze, and took very close care to swallow the beer in her mouth without choking and freaking out even more than she already had. "I think you're full of it," she said, sounding every bit as serious as a heart attack, an effect that was ruined when she realized her face was on fire.

"And really, Annie, I'm very flattered to think that you would get all pretty for little old me," he continued, grinning broadly as if he never heard her rebuttal.

It felt like her heart had stopped moving in her chest. He had no clue how true his words were. And this could be the moment to finally tell him that she did, in fact, harbor less than platonic thoughts from him…

But that's not what happened. Instead, she smiled, rolled her eyes, and replied, "Keep dreaming, Romeo."

$4$

Short, but I wrote it in about the span of my break from work. Not horrible.


	3. In Charge

I can't believe we're finally going to see new episodes again tomorrow. I'm probably going to keep repeating that for the rest of the season. Time is passing too quickly for me to keep up anymore.

I'm trying to keep up with my writing now that I have a summer internship that consists of me sitting around in front of a computer for long hours (don't anybody worry, I'm doing my job to the best of my ability—I just frequently tend to work faster than they can keep giving me assignments, which leads to random hours where I sit and twiddle my thumbs in contemplation). I have a feeling, depending on my workload, I'm probably going to wind up posting WotDs mostly on weekdays and slack off on the weekends. I think that should be a fair trade. ;)

Oh, and sorry for dragging her into my normally sweet and sappy Augnie fics… I just read the definition and couldn't for the life of me think of anyone more appropriate to this word.

$4$

**Pecksniffian: **(adj.) hypocritically and smugly affecting benevolence or high moral principles.

* * *

"How long has she been in there?"

Annie tore her eyes away from the glass wall partition long enough to glance at Bea. "She's been in there for the last two hours."

Bea's dark eyes doubled in size. "Just her and Joan?"

Annie tapped her pen against her desk and wished she had spent less time learning Arabic or German and more time learning how to lip read. "Arthur and a couple of the seventh-floor boys were there for a little while when they first brought her in, but I think Joan made them leave."

Bea leaned heavily against Annie's desk and let out a low whistle. "Damn," she muttered under her breath. "Joan's gonna kick her ass."

Annie arched a slender eyebrow but didn't disagree. "Don't blame her. Actually, I'm surprised she hasn't started working her over yet. She deserves it."

Bea chuckled as she replied, "Hell yes she does. Bitch got two good agents killed—she's lucky no one's decided to throw her in Guantanamo yet."

Smiling, Annie studied the two women in the glass office once more. She had known the leak could be dangerous, but hadn't really taken Arthur Campbell's dogged obsession with her seriously until Auggie got involved.

She knew it wasn't personal—he wanted to prove himself to Joan, the DPD, possibly to all of the CIA—to prove that he could work on the field, get the information necessary and complete the job without screwing anything up because of his disability.

In the end, it didn't matter. Arthur Campbell found out, and used Auggie to blow his cover and prove that Liza's leak was actually one of a handful of men in the CIA, men that also happened to have some of the highest clearing in the CIA.

Last she'd heard, there were still quite a few names on that list that needed to be crossed off—not that she had any idea who was actually _on_ that list—but it was too late. In her broadcast two days ago, Liza had let loose extremely valuable and highly restricted information about a black op that was going down in Islamabad. People found out, the op was blown, and two men died for her desire to get the information out to everyone.

This wasn't just any black op—it was one that Joan personally had a hand in. The half the team in Islamabad used to work for the DPD, including the two men that died. Joan had been green lighted to be on point for the entirety of the op, and she had been putting all her time and effort into making sure everything went off without a hitch.

And then Liza Hearn had to go and fuck everything up.

"I can't believe she's sitting there so… _calmly_," Bea breathed, stirring Annie out of her thoughts. "If Joan was giving me that look, I'd be trying to run for the hills as quick as possible."

Annie had to agree. Liza sat in the office, looking so calm and smug as Joan grilled her for information.

"Am I the only one that wants to beat that self-righteous look off her face?" Annie asked quietly, half-rhetorically as she gripped her pen tighter.

"Oh, hell no," Bea replied, her dark lips curving upward in a smirk. "It's a damned long line. And Joan's got first dibs."

Annie laughed. "That's fair."

Liza reclined in her chair, smiling confidently and looking every bit like the meddlesome bitch everyone in the DPD knew she was. And then something glorious happened. Joan said something, her pretty blue eyes narrow and her mouth set in a contemptuous frown, and then, like magic, Liza lost her cool. She shot out of the chair, her eyes wide and panicked, and started speaking rapidly.

Joan's expression never changed for a second, her arms crossed rigidly over her chest. She replied shortly—with something that looked an awful lot like _Too bad_—and for a second, Liza's whole body froze. And then she lunged for Joan.

"Oh my God!" Bea exclaimed. Annie gripped the table, preparing to sprint to the office and kick the door down if needed. She wasn't the only one—everyone in the DPD was watching this go down, and at least three of her coworkers were already standing up, more than willing to beat the ever living shit out of Liza if she hurt their boss.

But it wasn't necessary. In a flash, Joan had Liza's wrist, twisted it up and around, and had the bitch pinned to the table, her arm forced into an extremely uncomfortable angle against her back.

Instantly, everyone in the DPD seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

Liza didn't look to be taking this too well, if the muffled shouting and expletives that could be heard barely through the glass walls was any indication. But regardless of what came out of her fish mouth, she wasn't going anywhere.

"Okay, if it wasn't official before, it is now," Bea said, a hand over her mouth. "I think I have a girl crush on Joan."

Again, Annie had to agree.

$4$

I really can't pass up the opportunity to show Joan being badass. Mostly because Liza's such a snake. Someone needs to bitchslap her. And who better than our resident badass boss?


	4. Dysfunction

And so continues my work for WotD. Tonight's finally the premiere of _Covert Affairs_, which means I may wind up skipping a day tomorrow to write something in reaction to this week's episode. I have it set to record on my DVR, but I stubbornly refuse to read the summary Dish includes because I don't want to ruin anything for myself. XD

As a result, I don't know when we're starting off in the spectrum of things (and I don't want to know, either, until 10 PM Eastern), but consider this my opinion of Annie finally going back to work. A little rough, but it's how I'd do it.

Post-_When the Levee Breaks_ (1.11). Vague for a reason, peeps.

$4$

**Wiredrawn:** (adj.) finely spun; extremely intricate; minute; drawn out long and thin like a wire.

* * *

After the first week, getting out of bed required a lot of energy. Probably because she hadn't left her bed for three days, other than the few times Danielle walked into her guest house and demanded she eat something or shower. Beyond that, she couldn't work up the desire to do anything more than roll from one side of the bed to the other.

But Annie needed to go back to work. Well, not really 'back'—before she could be cleared for any kind of work beyond paper pushing she needed to be cleared by the CIA's shrink, an event she knew was going to be enjoyable for exactly no one.

Regardless, she needed to finally pull her ass out of bed and head back to Langley. The thought may have made her empty stumbled to churn, but it was her job. She had to face everyone eventually. Putting it off further would only make this moment worse.

So she shoved off her covers, gritting her teeth as the cooler air raised goosebumps all along her exposed skin, and rolled right out of bed before her body could convince her another extra five minutes in bed would be a stupendous idea.

She hadn't looked in a mirror during this time, but that was probably for the best. She needed another shower for sure, because her hair felt all kinds of knotted and ratty from no brushing and tossing and turning on her pillow. Plus, her eyes were bloodshot to hell and there was no way her utter lack of makeup was doing her complexion good.

In short, she was sure she looked like hell. At least she matched her insides.

She shuffled over to her nightstand. Just judging the last ten minutes she knew her day was going to drag out into eternity and then some, and she wasn't going to be able to do a damned thing to stop it. Even getting across the room and into the bathroom seemed like it would take a month, at least.

Her phone—her CIA-tricked out work phone, not her home phone, no one ever bothered to call that one—was blinking, a sign of a missed text or message.

She turned on the phone, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the bright screen and the tiny font. She continued to blink in confusion until she was absolutely positive she was reading the name right. Then she dialed her answering machine.

"So today's the big day, huh?" Auggie's baritone rang through the message, and the sound wormed a smile out of her. He had to have woken up at 6 in the morning or something to leave this message.

"I know the past week has been hell for you. Everyone understands that. Even Joan—I've never heard her sound so guilty before. She feels responsible, even if she would never admit. I bet you could even wrangle a couple extra paid leave days if you pout enough. But personally, I think that's an awful idea. Mostly because one of the newbies keeps screwing up my coffee order. Yours may have been cold, but at least it was correct. That counts for half, I think. Oh, and I also miss you a lot. But really, it's mostly the coffee. But regardless of when you come back—and I'm seriously encouraging that you come in today, not biased or anything—you're gonna do great. I believe in you, babydoll."

Annie smiled into her phone, shaking her head slightly. She still felt like hell warmed over, but that Auggie had taken the time to leave her a little pep talk message before she started work helped cement her resolve, just a little bit.

Maybe she'd bring him a coffee this morning—extra hot—as thanks.


	5. Bonding

Am I the only one that wanted to throw something at the TV when they kept Ben alive? I spent almost the entire into _convinced_Annie was having a dream that Ben was still alive—because it didn't make any sense!

But nope, the bastard had to live.

I will be the first to admit that I'm not in love with Jai's character (I'm getting used to him, the smarm at first was a little off-putting) but I told found myself shouting, "I love you!" at the TV screen as he ripped on Ben. Okay? That is where Ben falls on the spectrum of things for me. Jai's my bestie before I spend another two seconds watching Ben's face on TV.

Joan was awesome, as usual. I'm definitely biased, because I'm willing to admit that I have a definite girl-crush on her, but at least they can keep her consistently badass in the face of Ben's inherent doucheyness.

I just made up a word. Jesus. The things this show does to me.

Spoilers for _Begin the Begin_ (2.01). Not really, but sort of.

$4$

**Cater-cousin:** (n.) an intimate friend.

* * *

"Ben's gone again."

They were drinking beers outside of Allen's again, and after studying the lines and planes that made up Auggie's face she finally worked up the courage to tell him. In all the madness, she hadn't had time to mention her ex-boyfriend suddenly disappearing once more. Or her suspicion that it was a CIA cover-up—_again_—and he was back in the game. Somewhere.

Auggie had been ridiculously understanding about everything—Sri Lanka, running after Ben, watching Ben get shot, staying with Ben as he recuperated in Guam—but she doubted he wanted to hear much else about her ex-boyfriend. He was still her best friend, though, and she literally had no one else she could vent to about this whole clusterfuck of a situation—she probably could do with a female friend or two at the CIA, now that she thought about it.

"Gone as in… gone?" Auggie asked, cocking his head slightly as he tried to interpret her vague statement. "Or as in our kind of gone?"

Annie swallowed some more of her beer and frowned a little. He read her mind too well. "The latter kind, I think," she responded, running her fingers over the rim of the glass. "Joan told me I should move on."

His dark eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "She _did?_"

"Well, not in those words," she amended, grinning at his comical response. "We had a—I don't know what you'd call it, but maybe women of the CIA conversation, but in CIA-speak she leveled with me and explained that there were some things I would never know about Ben, and it would be easiest on myself if I remember the memories and move on with my life."

Auggie leaned back in his chair, looking sufficiently stunned. "I would've loved to hear that conversation."

She abandoned her beer long enough to whack him on the arm. "Hey," she said, with a half-hearted glare. "It was not a good conversation. I was pathetic and borderline neurotic. _And_ I showed up at Joan's house in the middle of a Saturday. I'm amazed she didn't shoot me."

"She probably would've shot anyone else," Auggie admitted with a smile. "But she does like you. It might be because pathetic is kind of cute on you. Or that just might be me."

She tried to quash her smile—and failed terribly—and smacked him again. She was only blushing a little as she replied, "No matter what you think, she's got the right idea. I'm going to start moving on from here on out. This time for real, no pining for Ben anymore."

Annie paused, smiling to herself. Never before had it sounded so final. She was going to move on, Ben be damned. It felt pretty good.

"So does that mean you're single now?"

She was about to confirm his question, when she took note of that—admittedly sexy—shit-eating grin on his face, and her eyes narrowed. "Don't even think about saying whatever's about to come out of your mouth."

"Killjoy."

$4$

Hmm, well, I guess this is more spoilers than I initially intended it, but I think you guys will find a way to forgive me. ;)


	6. All Nighter

Wow. You know the new season has started when suddenly the amount of fics on here absolutely explodes.

It's so fantastic to see, which is why I'm going to abuse my power a little as a writer and suggest (if you haven't already) checking out **Whoaa Kayy's** and **wigginluvr's** latest oneshots, _But For Now_ and _Wind Down_, respectively. They both chose to cover the awesomeness that was that truly WTF scene when Annie and Auggie are in the van and she straddles him and then proceeds to have an argument like this is normal behavior.

….Right. Because that's what two people healthy, platonic friendship do all the time.

I would've written something about that scene, too, but I had a feeling other (better) writers were going to be all over that like a fat kid on cake so I decided to wait it out and see what genius fell in my lap.

(Not unlike Annie and Auggie…)

$4$

**Lucubrate:** (v.) to work, write, or study laboriously, especially at night; to write learnedly.

* * *

Auggie just needed another hour. Alright, maybe another three. But he was just _so close_ to cracking this code, and would've been done about four hours ago if he had been paying closer attention to the—

"Hey, Aug?"

He nearly jumped when he heard her soft voice coupled with the slender hand on his shoulder. Sufficiently distracted from the task at hand, he tugged his headphones off his ears and turned his head towards her. "Yeah, what's wrong? I've almost finished hacking their system and I just need—"

"Auggie," she said, gentle but firm. "You've been in locked in Tech Ops for the last 19 hours. It's 1 am right now. When was the last time you slept? When was the last time you ate?"

His mind raced, searching for the quickest answer that would get her off his back and get him back into the program. He didn't mean to be so agitated or angry, but he _really_ wanted this finished. Now.

That said, he was not going to bite her head off just because he was wound up tight and extremely frustrated. She cared, that was the only reason she was checking in on him. So he was going to be _ nice._

"I had a Powerbar about an hour ago," he replied shortly, and turned back to his computer.

Before he could get that far, however, her hand pressed more firmly against his shoulder. "What makes you think I count a Powerbar as a real meal, Aug?" she asked, and as much as he heard the smile in her teasing tone, he couldn't be bothered to return the gesture.

Instead—going completely against his plan to be nice—he let out a low growl and all but snarled, "I don't really care at the moment. I just want to _finish this_."

She paused for a second—she was going to leave, and as soon as he finished the hack he was going to feel like absolute shit for treating her like this—but instead of leaving, she took a deep breath and replied slowly, "I understand that you're agitated and angry, Auggie. You have every right to be, considering how long you've been holed up in here. But you need to eat something beyond a Powerbar or energy drink and relax a little or you're going to wind up putting your fist through one of the monitors. And that's not healthy, hon."

Even through all of his rage and frustration that was fogging up his brain, that little personal endearment managed to hit home. Hon. That was a new one. She never seemed to use phrases like that often—but he did like the sound of it coming from her mouth.

She wasn't done talking, though, and he was forced out of his thoughts as she added, "Now, will you please go to the caf with me?"

His shoulders—heavy and pained from so many hours tensing muscles—relaxed minutely as he managed a small smile. "Only if you let me buy you a soda to make up for being a dick."

Annie, to her credit, didn't even hesitate. "Oh, deal."

It felt pretty damn good to know he always had Annie to pull him out of the dark.

$4$

This is a little fluffy, but mostly stemmed from my desire to write Auggie all kinds of wound up about work. No, I have no idea why, but it seemed to agree well with my muse. :)

And I have a tendency to personal endearments with anyone I'm close to, and by far hon gets used the most from day to day. I'm quirky like that, clearly.


	7. Besties

I don't know how I've gotten this far without mentioning, but **Artemis Rayne **wrote some of the best WotD fics around last year (for those of you who haven't had a chance to read) called _Those Little Moments_. Even better, she actually managed to have them all come together in a pretty impressive storyline.

As a little forewarning, you can't expect that much from me. I'm kind of notorious for going into everything with no set plan in mind which understandably usually bites me in the ass. Oh well.

Today is all the first day I've hit a word so obscure and bizarre I can tell you right now that I have no idea how I'm going to make this work. So that should be entertaining, at least.

$4$

**Umbra: **(n.) the invariable or characteristic accompaniment or comparison of a person or thing; shade; shadow.

* * *

"Why won't he leave me alone?"

Annie grinned to herself and continued pouring two glasses of sauvignon blanc. "He senses your fear," she replied flippantly.

"Why won't you go away?"

She assumed that comment wasn't directed at her and grinned wider. "You know, for a big, bad soldier you're kinda acting like a giant pansy right now."

"It's his fault! Not mine!"

She laughed as she carried the two glasses back to her little couch, watching Auggie's unease with amusement. "You know, I hear most CIA agents can face a three-year-old tabby without turning into a girl."

"He's following me! Everywhere I go, he's _there!_ It's like I have my own personal midget shadow! Make it stop, Annie!"

"Congratulations, you've just moved past funny territory and headed straight towards Absolutely Insaneville," she informed him cheerfully as she crossed the living room.

From the frown, it seemed Auggie didn't take that too well. He jumped off the couch and stood, only a second later to be followed dutifully by Spritzer, who chose to show his affection by winding his narrow little body between Auggie's feet. "See?" Auggie all but shouted, pointing down at the ground. "He keeps doing that! Why is he doing that? I don't even _like_ cats!"

She was trying so hard to not laugh at him as he proceeded to spaz, but it wasn't working. "That's why he's bothering you so much," she pointed out with a grin. "He senses you don't like cats and now he's trying to prove you wrong by showering you with as much love and affection as a 10-pound cat can manage."

Auggie made the oddest noise then, a cross between a snort and a sputter. It only made her laugh harder. "No he's not trying to love me! Look at him! He's trying to kill me!"

Annie looked down at her cat, whose gold eyes were half opened as he rubbed his face against Auggie's shin. "Oh, yeah," she agreed between snickers. "Natural-born killer right there."

Auggie made that funny noise again and she laughed at him some more. "He's trying to trip me! I swear!" he exclaimed, frustrated.

Instead of risking him falling on in ass in his over-exuberance to prove that her cat was secretly plotting his downfall, she reached forward and slipped her hand into his. "Come here, crazy. My cat is most certainly not trying to kill you, and if you keep this insanity up I won't let you have this glass of yummy white wine I just poured us."

He actually pouted, which somehow just made him more adorable, but at least he wasn't shouting about Spritzer anymore, who had decided to hop back on the couch once more. "This is why I like dogs better."

Spritzer responded by rubbing his head against Auggie's chin.

$4$

I don't know what the hell is with me and cracky/fluffy fics anymore, but apparently that's all I can churn out. Honestly, I'm not even sure where I got this craziness. Probably from taking a trip to Absolutely Insaneville.

This is also fortunately very short, because I don't think I'm capable of writing anything this cracky longer than 800 words.

I told you today's was going to be a doozy... but I hope you all liked it (or it at least made you snicker, a little) none the less. :)


	8. Philosophies

I'm vaguely impressed with myself. I don't expect to write a lot of WotDs on the weekends, because for whatever reason work seems to be the only time where I have the free time to write them. Oh, lovely irony.

But today, I do have a rare amount of time before I go out to dinner with my parents (one of the perks of being back home—free food, hell yes) so you guys get a bonus-weekend WotD! I make no promises, but maybe I'll have time to write another tomorrow!

And if anyone's been paying attention, it appears **Artemis Rayne** and I will be sharing a similar wonky schedule (and we're both using WotD from the same website, ) so you guys will get to read our different interpretations of the same word! As you can tell from yesterday, mine probably be taking a quirkier avenue, but I guess if y'all haven't gotten sick of this by now, you never will. ;) Which does actually make me feel a little better about myself.

$4$

**Kerf:** (v.) to cut or carve.

* * *

This was starting to get aggravating.

"So what was wrong with that one?" Annie asked lightly as she set their pitcher of Corona on the table with a plastic _thunk_. "She was pretty."

Auggie grimaced. He wished she would stop asking about women all the time. He had the occasional conversation with Stu or Barber about past conquests, but they were part of Tech Ops—and guys. He was perfectly comfortable with joking around with her once in a while about the Walk of Shame—which had only happened like twice—but when it came to talking specifics about other women to her it was… weird.

Unless that was just him.

"She did that thing when she talks where everything she says has an upward inflection," he answered. "It sounded like she was always asking a question. And when I mentioned something about Friedrich Nietzsche she asked if he was the one that was releasing the new line of handbags next month."

Annie laughed at his expense, and as much as he wanted to frown the sound was too happy and carefree for him to bother. "I didn't even _like_ reading Nietzsche in college and even I find that sad."

Nearly a year had passed since she started work at the CIA, and she had wormed herself into nearly every facet of his life. Not that he minded—quite the contrary, he liked it a little too much—but every once in a while, like when it came to him dating, he sort of wished things were back like they were before Annie Walker turned his life inside out.

He was never going to mention this to her, but he hadn't been quite as picky with the women he brought home before he met her. The pretty redhead that had slid into Annie's empty seat seconds after she left for beer would've been exactly his type—that is, beautiful and available—about 10 months ago. Instead, her voice and lack of brains and that too sugary perfume had been too much for him. Or maybe too little.

"Hey, I like Nietzche," he replied, grinning a little.

Annie harrumphed. "You know my opinions on philosophy," she reminded him, pouring a mug of beer for them both. "It's just a whole bunch of made up bullshit."

He laughed and gratefully took the mug she nudged into his hand. "It has it uses," he replied diplomatically.

It was starting to become remarkably difficult to have one night stands—or relationships—with Annie around. She had worked her way under his skin, and there was no point trying to change it. He was going to have to resign himself to his new life with her.

"Now I'm thinking _you're_ full of bullshit."

Life couldn't be too awful with her around.

$4$

I can't believe I'm admitting this, but the upward inflection is a joke I sort of stole from _Family Guy_, mostly because it's a little too appropriate and bizarre (and I've unfortunately run into a few girls that have spoken that same way).

I don't write from Auggie's point of view often, but I like to try it every once in a while. Something different is fun.


	9. Psych 101

You know me, folks. This was bound to happen eventually. :)

$4$

**Cosher:** (v.) to treat with special fondness.

* * *

When she kissed him, it was… nice.

It was really a lot better than just nice, but when they were kissing she found it difficult to think of anything more accurate than nice. She found it difficult to think of anything when they kissed.

They had only been on two dates, and she had been surprised to find the Casanova of the Tech Ops division was being so careful around her.

Annie leaned forward, lacing her fingers through his messy dark hair. At his insistence, they determined that they would stay in for their second date, ordering pizza and watch _Red_, while Annie quietly relayed some of Bruce Willis' dialogue absent scenes to Auggie. After pizza and some beer, they remained cuddled on the couch, and that had of course led to kissing…

And nothing else.

Annie let out a soft noise of protest when, instead of taking her incentive and pinning her neatly to the couch (really, any flat surface of his apartment would do) he chuckled and broke the kiss. Her eyes opened automatically, but her mind was too cloudy from their kisses to do more than whine.

"Delayed gratification, Annie," he reminded her. They had discussed this earlier, before their first date. They would keep things slow, a term that wasn't even in her vocabulary. She had agreed, of course, because she knew he was probably right, and even just kissing Auggie was a treat in itself.

She would've preferred if things progressed a little further than just kissing, however.

"I remember," she replied, not even bothering to cover up how breathless she sounded. "I'm just impatient."

"I remember," he repeated, laughing at her expense. In response, she let out a tiny little growl and cut off his laughter with another kiss. Before he could return her affection or even maintain the slightest bit of control, she surged forward, throwing one leg over his waist and effectively straddling him. She kissed him deeply, and for a second he didn't respond—and then his hands (those lovely hands) traced up her thighs, past her hips, and wrapped around her waist. He responded eagerly to the kiss, fighting for dominance and making blood pound excitedly through her body and all she could think was… _yes_.

And then he jerked his head back, breaking the kiss with a loud and unsatisfying _smack_. "That's not playing fair," he said heavily. He wasn't actually disappointed with her (if he was, he wouldn't have been grinning and certain parts of him wouldn't be so happy to have her this close to his body).

"What can I say? I fight dirty," she said unevenly, still giddy from being so nicely wrapped up in his embrace. "You're just going to have to deal with it."

He grinned even wider at her sass, and his arms loosened a little, but never let go. He was still holding her closely to him, nearly chest to hip, but gone was the lust and need that had been there before. Instead, she felt… cherished.

Not quite as satisfying as the first one, but not a bad feeling, either.

"I guess I am going to have to deal with it," he said softly, "And with all your other quirky aspects that make you Annie Walker. I think I'll find a way to manage."

Her heart melted at his tone and words, and she leaned forward once more, this time pressing a gentle kiss to his lips.

Auggie didn't break away, and instead spoke against her lips, creating a lovely sensation. "But you're not getting laid tonight."

Damn him.

$4$

More fluff! I just can't stop! XD


	10. Focus

...I couldn't resist. :D

$4$

**Orison:** (n.) a prayer.

* * *

Auggie was never a religious man.

Oh, his mother always took him and his several brothers to church every Sunday like good German Catholics, and they celebrated every Christmas and Easter with as much verve (and mayhem) as every other family in the neighborhood. But when it came down to it, he didn't think much of religion.

Until the Accident.

For a while—a very, very long while—he was furious. Not at God in particular, but at everyone; everything. Eventually he learned to channel that rage into something more constructive—focus. He focused on learning Braille as quickly as possible, he focused on mastering walking with the cane, he focused on completely reinventing his life. Eventually, all that focus led to something more manageable, an acceptance that as much as he couldn't change his vision he could keep moving, keep adapting, until his life was as close to back to normal as possible.

And then, amazingly, things did start going back to normal. Oh, Joan wouldn't let him do any field missions, and the pull to get out of the damned Tech Ops room was almost brutal at times, but it wasn't horrible. It could always be worse, really.

It was only when Annie had barely been back to work for 48 hours that he started to reconsider his view on life. He was concerned that she was taking this whole mess with Ben too personally and it was starting to leach into her work, dangerous for any CIA operative. He chose not to voice his thoughts—she had enough men in her life that betrayed her.

But then they broke out the surveillance van and four muffled pops went off, something that sounded a lot like a gun with a suppressor, and Annie immediately had to jump up and get into the fray.

The dimensions in the van were small and cramped—that's what happened when you put a hell of a lot of extremely delicate, sensitive, and fucking gigantic computer equipment in a normal-sized van. But Auggie knew his surroundings, and he knew there was at least one way to get in and out of the van without having to tackle someone in the process.

Not for Annie. She was ready to sprint out of the van and head for sure disaster, and in her haste she decided that the most straightforward way to leave was through him. Considering, last he checked, he was _not_ made of ephemeral material that meant having to go _around_ his body. And she chose to do that by throwing one long, lean leg over his waist.

And then for three blissful seconds, he promptly forgot what they were supposed to be doing in that van.

All he could smell was her perfume, and hair and the slight give of her skin as his hands went instinctively to her waist (because, _Jesus Christ_, she needed to stop squirming around like that), and he knew she was way too close to his body but there was no way he could stop the urge to pull her completely flush against him…

And for the first time in ages, Auggie prayed that she wouldn't move.

$4$

I said I was going to leave this scene up to other writers, but I read today's WotD and it was the first thing that popped into my brain and I just couldn't get it out. I still say everyone else's contribution to this van scene is way better, but it was fun to take my own spin on it. :)


	11. Surprise!

Oh, _Covert Affairs_, how I've missed you. Last night's episode was as good as ever, even if I can't really understand the charm and charisma that is Eyal… is that just me? Everything that came out of his mouth seemed like a line, and certainly nothing worthy of swooning. Granted, he'll forever be known to me as "that ninja guy from _The Mummy_" so that might have colored my opinion of him a tad.

But I am a total sucker for an episode that highlights Joan. Her in jury duty sounds like it would just end in tragedy, particularly because I'm pretty sure she would murder her fellow jurors by the end of the second week. But her misfortune did make me chuckle, because it reminded me of the other show she guest stars in, _Leverage_ (for the four of you that also watch it). One of my favorite episodes is when Parker has to go into jury duty and deals with some trouble of her own.

Ironically, that episode also starred Lauren Holly, who appeared on _Covert Affairs_ last season (and had a long-running spot on _NCIS_, too).

Okay, that's enough of me playing Seven Degrees of Kevin Bacon.

And next week's episode seems like the best-worst idea ever. Annie's investigating someone at the Farm, and Auggie's being brought undercover… and loses his shirt. Yeahhh, I see nothing going wrong with that plan.

Spoilers for _Good Advices_ (ep 2.02).

$4$

**Crotchet:** (n.) an odd fancy or whimsical notion.

* * *

After Paris, Annie had decided to distress a little before her next eventual mission, which meant pestering Auggie in Tech Ops afterhours. "You bought me a cake," she reminded him with an obnoxious grin, stretching out in her chair and propping up her feet on the table.

"Yes, I bought you cake," he replied, a tad belligerently, as he leaned over, grabbed her ankles, and set her feet on the ground and she pointedly ignored the way his hands felt against her skin. "Legs off the table, Walker."

"Stick in the mud," she shot back, giggling a little. "And I wasn't really expecting a cake. You don't like celebrating birthdays."

"No, I specifically said I don't like celebrating _my_ birthday," he corrected, bringing up some last-minute work on his computer and running his fingers over the Braille strip. "I said nothing about celebrating _your_ birthday."

Annie narrowed her eyes at him a little, silently marveling at his craftiness. "You realize that this means I'm going to have to throw a surprise party for you, right?"

"Under no circumstances does it mean that."

"Ohh, no," she hastened to inform him, sitting up in her chari. "That is _exactly_ what it means. I am throwing you an awesome surprise party and there is nothing you can do to stop it. It's happening."

"I've had enough 'surprise' birthday parties to last a while, thanks to my mother and insane brothers," he said derisively, actually using air quotes. "I'll pass."

Annie grinned at him, suddenly stricken with the sweetest thought of Auggie as a little kid. "I bet you were the cutest little kid," she replied, poking his shoulder. "All awkward and nerdy."

Auggie just scowled in response, his cheeks coloring. He grumbled and muttered something about his brothers and Poindexter and she laughed some more.

"Oh, yeah. I'm _definitely_ throwing you a surprise birthday party."

"Why are you so mean to me?"

$4$

I basically just used today WotD as an excuse to use more dialogue. As a writer, I'm by nature a dialogue-heavy person, because it's the simplest shortcut to revealing the most without having to write it all out. You know, show but not tell and all that jazz.

I'm fairly certain at least half my male friends only tolerate my presence because I keep them entertained with my extremely blunt and dry (oh, and frequently sick) sense of humor. I think that same humor tends to translate pretty well when writing Auggie and Annie's dialogue.


	12. Befuddled

To put it lightly, I struggled to figure out where I was going to go with this one. And then it went somewhere completely unexpected. XD

$4$

**Brindled: **(adj.) gray or tawny with darker streaks or spots.

* * *

Auggie had been very quiet for the last twenty minutes, and it was making her nervous.

She kept fidgeting, playing with her hair and smoothing her skirt and tapping her heels, and tried not to say anything to him—if she did, she would start rambling and never shut up. It didn't help that she had imbibed two full glasses of eggnog in the last hour, and that much bourbon tended to go straight to her head. But, finally, Auggie spoke.

"I think you kidnapped me."

Annie made a spluttering sound—a surefire sign she was a bit past tipsy. "I did not _kidnap_ you. At no point were you physically restrained or in any physical danger," she informed him, quashing the last vestiges of her guilt.

"You took me without my consent!" Auggie argued. He had been sitting at the same spot on the couch for over two hours, apparently too shell shocked to move.

"I took you to my sister's house. That's hardly real threatening for a soldier," she snickered.

"I was not properly warned ahead of time for any of this," he said, running both hands through his curly hair and messing it up even further.

"Don't be a drama queen," Annie replied airily, knocking his hands away and fixing the way his hair stood up in the back. "My family's only a little crazy. And this is still better than having Christmas at home all alone."

He made a noise like he didn't agree with her. When he first told her he wouldn't be making the trip out to Glencoe for Christmas this year, she had been horrified. Who spends Christmas all by themselves? Without saying anything, she told Danielle to set out an extra spot for dinner and dragged Auggie—forcibly, at one point—to the house.

Her family all loved him—really, how could they not? And aside from one horrifying moment in the first five minutes after they arrived when her father asked in no uncertain terms what were Auggie's intentions towards his youngest daughter—and she could've swore Auggie was going to cry—the whole night was pretty enjoyable.

"I thought your father was going to _murder_ me," Auggie crowed, apparently recalling the same moment with vivid clarity. "And I'm not even dating you!"

Much to her everlasting chagrin.

Annie paused, momentarily stunned by her rogue thought. Where had that come from? Granted, she was drunk…

"Auntie Annie! Auntie Annie! Look what we got!"

Her eyes doubled in size as her two young nieces came barreling into her guest house, sporting a very interesting prize. "Wha—Where did you get that, honey?" Annie asked Katia, torn between staring stunned or laughing.

"Daddy gave it to us for Christmas! What should we call her? What should we call her?" Katia repeated excitedly, her little eyes alight with excitement.

"Yeah, what?" Chloe repeated, ever dutiful in her desire to be exactly like her big sister.

"Uhh…" Annie stuttered, staring down at the chubby bundle of fur and limbs. Michael had bought them a puppy. Did Danielle know about this? She somehow doubted it—surely Danielle would've mentioned something to her earlier in the week, to at least prepare her sister for their future guest.

Worse still, Annie recognized the breed of the dog they were holding. A Bull Mastiff. As admittedly adorable as it was now in Katia's arms, looking up at her with big, sad black eyes—saying either _Please put me down_ or _Feed me_, she wasn't sure—it would eventually grow way, way out of its 15-pound size and grow into those already massive paws.

Annie leaned over and scratched behind her grayish brown, fuzzy, floppy ear and explained to Auggie, "Michael bought them a puppy."

"A _puppy_," Auggie repeated, his eyes going wide. "Well, that's great guys!"

"I know!" the girls chorused. Apparently satisfied they had informed Annie and Auggie of this latest event, Katia shifted her grip around the puppy's torso so she was holding her better and told her aunt, "We have to go show everyone else now!"

As quick as they appeared, they scrambled away, still towing that poor, tired puppy. "Does Danielle know?" Auggie asked, somehow always knowing exactly what to say when it came to her family.

"I don't think so," Annie replied in awe, settling heavily against the couch.

"She's going to kill him, isn't she?"

"Oh, six feet in the ground," she answered without a doubt. "That dog is going to grow up to weigh more than me."

Auggie whistled.

Spotting her opportunity, she nudged his side. "See? I told you tonight would be entertaining. The Walkers are just chock-full of excitement."

He smirked at her lame attempt at humor but didn't argue with her, either. She took this as his assent that he did, in fact, have fun.

Giggling to herself, she added, "I knew it was a good idea to kidnap you tonight." And then, without any further incentive, she leaned up and kissed him square on the mouth.

Yup. She was definitely drunk.

$4$

I don't know why my brain decided Christmas in June was a good idea, but it was certainly entertaining to write. My cousin has a Bull Mastiff, and she weighs like 160lbs or something ridiculous, which is certainly bigger than me (and the males grow even bigger than that O.o).

I probably won't post anything until next Tuesday. Tomorrow is my birthday (20 is such an awkward age… I still can't drink—well, not legally—and it makes me feel both old and young to no longer be a "teenager") and one of my roommates is coming out from Maryland to visit for the weekend. :D So I'm taking off work and probably won't get anything accomplished until Monday at earliest. And even then, maybe not. Tuesday I will definitely be back for sure!


	13. Fidget

I'm ba-ack! I had a nice long work-free weekend (thanks for all the great reviews and birthday wishes :D) but now I'm writing my WotDs once more. Of course, today my office's internet has to be down for half the day, but I have a app on my phone (shut up, I already know I'm a mega-nerd) so I don't have to wait around to see the definition.

$4$

**Pullulate: **(v.) to exist abundantly; swarm; teem.

* * *

Annie stretched, half-asleep, and buried her face deeper in the pillow. Next to her, she heard a low groan and smiled to herself. A warm, heavy arm wrapped around her torso, and she leaned heavily into the body taking up the other half of the bed.

"Stop taking up so much space," Auggie admonished, tightening his grip around her waist. "Some of us don't enjoy waking up at the ass-crack of dawn."

She chuckled a little, but to be spiteful shifted again and snuggled into the space available where his neck met his shoulder. "Morning to you, too, cranky," she mumbled. She was barely awake, and still wanted a few more minutes of delicious, blissful sleep, but couldn't resist the urge to screw with him.

"Difficult," he mumbled under his breath, his free hand coming up between her shoulder blades and playing with her hair. She let out a soft hum of appreciation as her knee slid between his, her lean leg wrapping around his calf.

They were going on nearly a month of living together, longer if you counted nights when one of them would share the other's bed. They were more or less used to the other's sleeping habits, including his penchant for cuddling and her hogging the covers.

She grinned to herself and shifted again, causing him to grab her hip. "You have got to stop moving around so damned much," he admonished. "Some of us are trying to fall asleep."

Annie poked him in the side, and was rewarded with an annoyed grunt. "If you would stop talking so much I would fall asleep and then stop moving," she replied primly, following up her poke with a pinch.

He caught her hand before she could do much more damage, and at her noise of protest, he grinned and very carefully kissed the inside of her wrist. "You, Annie Walker, do more harm than good sometimes."

She resisted a smile—though it appeared on her face anyway, slight and wry. "Yeah, it's any wonder why you put up with me," she drawled, using her hand's proximity to his face to give his nose a little tap.

"I don't know, I think there are a couple good reasons to keep you around." The cocky grin on his face told her exactly what reasons he was thinking about, and she rolled her eyes.

"Incorrigible."

"That's why you love me."

Her smile softened as she felt that familiar sensation of adoration wash over her when he said love. She worried sometimes that maybe things were moving too fast—well, not as fast as with Ben, but then there was a reason that that crashed and burned—but then they had moments like this and any concerns she had sort of fell by the wayside.

"Yeah, I do," she agreed sincerely, resting her head on his shoulder. He smiled back, genuine and loving. "Even when you're being an ass."

Hey, just because they loved each other didn't mean anything was going to change.

$4$

Ahh, fluff. My lifeblood. :D


	14. Little White Lie

I'm impressed they've introduced Arthur's ex-wife so early into the season. I read something about her early on, but I thought they would hold back at least until halfway through.

And they made a pretty good decision. I don't know much about the actress, I just know she's played the future/ex-girlfriend to a whole bunch of "older" men on various TV shows (_NCIS_, _Bones_, _Blue Blood_, etc.) and this is the first time I don't want to smack her for it. Probably because the concept of Arthur not telling Joan his ex-wife is visiting is too terrifying to think about Gina properly.

(But I will readily admit I love that during the divorce she only referred to Joan as "the blonde.")

Spoilers for _Bang and Blame_ (ep 1.03).

$4$

**Xenogenic: **(adj.) in biology, originating outside the organism or from a foreign substance introduced into the organism.

* * *

He didn't find out until three weeks later.

For the record, he knew something was wrong right from the beginning, but he couldn't figure it out. Or maybe he didn't want to figure it out. If he looked past his own problems and recognized that whatever was going on was affecting him, affecting the _both_ of them, then that would mean he would have to recognize what was going on between them.

And truthfully, he wasn't ready to deal with that just yet. He didn't think she was, either, but it wasn't like he was going to ask her to double-check.

It damn near killed him to have to learn about all of this through somebody else. Granted, it was Barber, who could on occasion be kind of an ass, but he was a good guy. When he heard Annie talking to Bea about it, his first reaction had been to double back and immediately tell Auggie what the fuck was going on.

And, apparently, there was a lot fucking going on.

She was dating a doctor. He didn't know for how long precisely, but if he was going to stop pretending he hadn't noticed it from the beginning he was almost positive it started sometime around when she went back to the Farm. She had been acting weird and almost-not-quite distant towards the latter half of the mission, but he had ignored the warning signs. He _assumed _she was tired or off from all the work and stress, and in the grand tradition of the cliché he had made one hell of an ass out of himself.

He didn't know where she met this doctor, either. Probably a hospital (because that was logical, _dumbass_) or maybe through her nieces or sister, but he didn't know anything remotely close to specifics. All he did know was that this doctor had appeared out of nowhere and was spectacularly screwing up the delicate order that was Auggie's life.

It was grating, because no matter how pissed he wanted to be—a doctor? Really? Did it _really_ have to be a doctor?—every time he felt that familiar, welcome burble of rage creep up his spine, his brain checked it at the door. He had no right to be pissed she was dating Dr. McDreamy or whatever the fuck they went by these days.

Especially considering he was no stranger to relationships. In about as many weeks as she had been dating the doctor, he had had three women in his bed. Annie probably knew about at least two of them.

And if he was going to continue on this honesty vein, him sleeping his way through Allen's Tavern pissed her off on some level, too. She didn't admit as much (except for the few odd times when she'd make the offhanded comment about a Walk of Shame or "Where'd that redhead you were with last go? She can't read either?"), but he knew her almost as well as he knew himself. She didn't approve of his repertoire, and the wounds from Liza were still fresh.

That never stopped him, though. He was comfortable with the way things were, the way they had been since before she was pulled off the Farm. It hadn't even occurred to him that anything needed to change just because he was now best friends with the CIA's favorite hot blonde agent (he liked to pretend Joan wasn't hot because he felt like somehow she would know… and then cut his balls off).

But then this doctors-without-borders type (yes, he _may_ have abused his head-of-the-CIA's-Tech –Ops-division powers to do a full background check on the guy… but no one was going to find out about that) appeared. Auggie didn't particularly like change, especially if it affected him negatively. And this doctor _definitely_ counted as a negative change.

He wanted to talk to her about it. They were best friends, which meant he should be able to have a conversation with her about her boyfriend without him putting his fist through anything. But the problem was, he knew the second they started talking about it, he would say something assholish, like dating someone outside of the CIA was always a dangerous situation, and what if he found out about her real job or she had to break up with him on CIA orders.

Yeahhh… Bringing up Tash would not be a good idea.

So Auggie kept his mouth shut and silently fumed. Because one day, they would break up, and the doctor would go back to Tanzania or whatever and Annie would go back to being his Annie.

Yeah. One day.

$4$

For the record, I actually _don't_ hate the doctor. Ben? Sure. Jai? I'm actually getting pretty used to (he's growing on me, in a smarmy, I-just-can't-help-myself kind of way).

And that doctor (I had to IMDB it to learn that his name is actually Dr. Weiss—I was too distracted and slap-happy last night to pay attention to something as trivial as his last name) was totally adorable. Yes, I know Annie/Auggie whoo!, but dammit, he's a little bit of a manwhore right now and the doctor's a sweetheart. Also, not an unattractive lunatic incapable of giving her a straight answer (*coughBencough*).

God, I hope USA doesn't screw this up. I mean, they will, eventually. Because he's a doctor without borders or whatever and she's a CIA agent. The relationship can only last so long before he either sees her blow something up or she has to lie and break his heart.

In which case I'll go back to rooting for A/A.

This was actually a really long WotD for once (yes, I know they're usually abysmally short). I rather enjoy writing about Auggie ranting to himself. Especially when it's jealous ranting.


	15. Boys of the Summer

Hey guys! Sorry I skipped WotD yesterday… work was actually hectic for once, so when I finally had free time I was too tired to actually think anything up to go along with the word. XD

That said, **Artemis Rayne** did write a pretty sweet WotD yesterday, so I think that should be enough to hold you over for 24 hours…

$4$

**Sabbatical: **(n.) any extended period of leave from one's customary work, especially for rest, to acquire new skills or training, etc.

* * *

"I think this is stupid."

Annie rolled her eyes. "I know," she said slowly. "You've already said that. Four times, in fact, since we walked into the building. Not counting all the times you said it on the plane. Or the car ride."

Auggie made a face. "I'm merely expressing my displeasure about Joan's latest punishment."

"You've already expressed it. A lot."

"I'm sorry, but what the hell kind of _vacation_ is this? I can't even check my e-mail!" he all but wailed. They had spent the first ten minutes quickly going through the layout of the room—two double beds, a loveseat facing the widescreen TV across from that, and a small galley kitchen complete with refrigerator and shelves against the wall. Now they were unpacking for the next week, and he had been whining the. Entire. Damned. Time.

"There's a reason for that," Annie reminded him for the umpteenth time. "I would've let you bring a laptop, but Joan decided that you would be too tempted to try and do real work on the thing, so that' why it was taken away from you."

Joan had decided her best handler and best agent were in a dire need of a vacation, but she also knew any chance of Auggie not doing work while on vacation was slim at best. So she agreed to let Auggie and Annie take off work together—provided Auggie have no access to anything more technical that a toaster.

"I'm not a child!"

At the petulant tone in his voice, she snorted. "Sure you aren't."

"I heard that," he shot back, sending a glare sort of in her direction.

"You were supposed to, Batboy," she replied drily, folding up the last of her camis. "Besides, is it _really_ that painful to have to spend a whole week with me?"

He huffed a little, as if put out by her suggestion. "Of course not," he said, all roguish grins. "But I'd prefer if I had you _and_ a laptop."

Mostly to keep herself amused, she shot back, "Who said anything about you having me? I was talking about spending vacation together. Let's not get ahead of ourselves here."

"Annie, you wound me. I would never presume that about us," he answered easily, stepping closer.

She laughed at his antics as usual, but it sounded stilted, and there was a tightness in her chest that hadn't been there seconds before. Arching an eyebrow and trying to play it off, Annie halfheartedly punched his chest and said, "Sometimes you're too much, Auggie Anderson."

He laughed, and before she could move away, he was following the length of her arm, latching onto her shoulder, and tugging her right into his chest. She stumbled and sort of stood there, too stunned to comprehend the current turn of events. "And that's why you love me, Annie Walker," he said, tucking her head into that perfect spot between his shoulder and chin and leaning down to say the words way to close to her right ear.

She tried to ignore the way the whole right side of her body tingled deliciously—because this was biology, and it was _his_ fault, anyway. But she was not starting whatever those muscles below her belly button wanted her to do. Now was not the time for her body to decide it had been too long since she'd gotten any.

"You're hilarious," she deadpanned, pushing the hand that was still pinned between their chests—stop trying to feel him up, you treacherous letch of a hand—in a feeble attempt to get a little extra space between the two of them. Except he didn't so much as budge, and all she could think of was did he _really_ have to be that much of a jacked nerd right now?

"Don't be mean," he replied with a laugh, clearly not taking any of what she said personally. It would probably better if he did take it personally, because then maybe she could extract herself from him and take a cold shower. And then sleep for the rest of the trip. "What happened to we're gonna have a great vacation?"

_Especially if it involves me getting you out of your pants—_Annie inwardly groaned and tried valiantly to put a halt to that dirty train of thought.

This was going to be an interesting week.

$4$

Once, a while back, I wrote something that followed almost these exact same lines that was going to be a short, chaptered M fic. The first chapter never got off the ground and my brain quickly burned out the idea, so it's nice to sort of return to the concept and give it a better finish.

This is sort of a tag to an episode last season, _Fool in the Rain _(1.09). It's hardly a spoiler, it's just that the initial idea came from some joke when Annie was talking about her vacation being tech-free and Auggie making a face and saying something along the lines of, "What kind of vacation is that?"

So that's a small look into how my brain operates when it comes to writing.


	16. Burn, Baby, Burn

Looks like today will be one of those rare days I actually accomplish something during the weekend. But when I read today WotD, well… I couldn't deny you guys. ;)

It's not really important, but this has a (really, almost insignificantly) little tag back to one of my past WotD's, _Philosophies_ (8).

$4$

**Torrefy:** (v.) to subject to fire or intense heat.

* * *

Annie stumbled off the treadmill, out of breath and her legs like Jell-O. She always enjoyed running, even before she started working for the CIA and chasing down bad guys (or, alternately, being _chased_ by bad guys) became almost a requirement. She loved that quintessential runner's high—adrenaline, dopamine, and all those other scientific terms that turned her body all kinds of elated and tingly.

She looked down the long rows of treadmills, empty except for the one right next to hers. She liked to use the CIA's training facilities and shower really early in the morning before work started and her day and disaster struck like usual. By then, she was usually too exhausted to work out at night.

Auggie liked to do the same, so some days she would pick him up and they'd head over to the gym. They rarely used the same machines—she used the weights alright, but there was only so much she could lift in comparison to him. But one she ran on the treadmill, she was focused. Nothing but her, the increasing pace and incline, and the music piping through her earbuds. No one could break her bubble of concentration.

As a result, she hadn't noticed someone new walking into the room. That someone was Maria, one of secretaries that worked on the 4th or 6th floor or something. Something about her reminded Annie vaguely of Liza Hearn—dark, curly hair, olive complexion, and an unfortunately rockin' body. And kind of looked like a skank—seriously, no one who worked out with their hair down and was she wearing a push-up bra under her sports bra?

She was also all over Auggie.

Annie rolled her eyes. This was pretty much par for the course. She was more or less used to the way women threw themselves at Auggie—or at least, that was what she was telling herself—but lately, he had been getting kind of weird about it. Not anything major, but any time she tried to lighten the mood and the twinge in her chest by making a joke about his latest fling he brushed it off.

Normally he always had some cute quip or sarcastic retort to her questions about his dating roster, but lately he didn't even want to talk about it.

And today seemed no different. Maria was clearly giving it her all, but Auggie didn't seem to want anything to do with her—and that was definitely new behavior. He was still being polite, but everything about his body language read he was letting her down.

That didn't mean Maria was taking no for an answer, however. Annie smirked to herself as she took a couple swigs from her water bottle and eyed the way Maria leaned even closer, tossing her thick, curly hair over her shoulder and nearly hitting Auggie in the face for her efforts.

Weaving around the treadmills and various other exercise accouterments Annie capped her water bottle and rotated her neck, checking for any kinks. "Hey, Aug, hon, you done? I'm gonna hit the showers 'cuz work starts in thirty minutes," she called, sending Maria an apologetic smile. She just glowered in response.

Lovely.

Auggie looked nothing short of relieved. "Sure, wouldn't wanna be late," he replied over Maria's head. He pretended to frown—he was an awful liar when he wasn't being all gung-ho-soldier-boy-spy—and then sidestepped Maria.

She was trying not to laugh—seriously, _trying_—as Auggie somehow managed to get out of Maria's fake-nail clutches. He wrapped an arm around Annie's shoulder, tugging her way closer than necessary to his side. She laughed for real and nearly kidded herself that she wasn't thinking about him hot and sweaty for a different reason than working out.

"Have I mentioned how much I love you recently?" he muttered under his breath, just low enough for Maria to miss as she scowled at their retreating backs. She laughed again, turning her head to look up at him. Then something odd happened. He closed the miniscule gap between them and kissed her.

He probably meant to kiss her cheek or something because it was slightly off, but before either of them could react her body was already making up for his miscalculation, tilting ever so slightly to the left and deepening the kiss. He responded immediately in kind, they both stopped in place.

If she had been paying attention she might've heard Maria's shriek of outrage, but she wasn't. His arm somehow managed to pull her even tighter against him and when he licked the bottom of her lip a moan escaped from the back of her throat.

But then the door to the gym slammed shut—Maria leaving, no doubt. And they broke apart with a gasp and a loud _smack_ and what they were doing and where they were standing slammed back to the surface.

Annie swallowed and tried to not stare at Auggie as he licked his lips—but they were still like two inches away and it was impossible to miss—and inhaled and exhaled as slowly as she could to maybe stop panting. "Well," she said, swallowing again. Her face was hot from blushing furiously, but that heat was nothing in comparison to what was going on with the rest of her body. It felt like she was sizzling under her skin, like someone lit a match inside her and she was glowing.

That was nothing, however, to the heat quadrupling a few inches south of her bellybutton.

"Well," Auggie repeated. There was a pretty healthy flush on his face as well.

"We should probably shower and go to work," Annie said, beginning to pull back—and then froze, the second the dual meaning of that sentence infiltrated her brain. "I mean—take _separate _shower—"

"It's alright," Auggie replied quickly, finally letting go of her shoulder. She immediately missed the heat, and briefly considered pulling him back to her to get that warmth once more. "It's nothing to freak out about. What's a kiss between friends?"

Annie's brain stuttered to keep up, but she nodded dumbly anyway. "You're right," she automatically agreed. "No need for things to get… weird between us." She grinned and patted his extremely muscular—_dammit, shut up, Annie_—shoulder. "After all, what's a kiss between friends?"

And what a kiss it was.

$4$

I realize it's later than usual, but I get distracted a lot easier when I'm at home and have nothing to do. :D

I liked writing this one, I must say. I always like when I have the inspiration to write a longer WotD, and this was pretty entertaining.


	17. Winner

So it's official. I posted a new multi-chaptered story up on _CA_, one that I'm hoping I'll actually be able to finish in a semi-respectable timeframe. It's AU for once, something I have never ventured, and I'm hoping that won't hinder my writing any worse than it usually is.

I'm not encouraging any of you to read it (I only do that with other writers—read anything that **Beth – Geek Chick** writes, it'll keep you sufficiently distracted from real work for at least an hour), especially because this first/prologueish chapter I wrote really doesn't go into much detail (yet).

Once I'm finishing writing what's left of _One of the Boys_, which I'm hoping won't take longer than two weeks at max, I'm going to try to finish what's left of _Don't Call it a Comeback_, because I know some of you have been itching to see the end of that (I'm looking at you, **Whoaa Kayy**).

But I do want to take this time to thank all of you guys for reviewing and favorite-ing and alerting and just plain reading these WotDs that I write. I'm really impressed by the feedback—in fact, if I'm not mistaken, we should be fast approaching 100 reviews, which is usually when I let out girlish squeals and dance around for about 10 seconds like an idiot. Because, you know, NeoNails is nothing but the epitome of cool.

$4$

**Attenuate: **(v.) to weaken or reduce in force, intensity, effect, quantity, or value.

* * *

"Annie, no."

"But why not?"

"No."

"It's really not going to be that ba—"

"No."

"Danielle's been bugging me nonstop since you—"

"Annie, there is nothing you can say or do to make me change my mind. No."

She huffed, reminding him of her two adorable nieces, which only made him grimace deeper. They had been arguing about this for what had to be at least a half hour, which was about 30 minutes too long for a guy who wanted absolutely nothing to do with children.

Which wasn't to say he disliked children, exactly—his older brother had a beautiful baby girl and Auggie had every intention of doting on her when she grew up like every uncle should. And overall, small children were tolerable in small doses. He wasn't inhuman.

However, _that_ many children for _that_ long—yeah, no thank you. And it wasn't like he was even getting anything good out of the deal. Sure, he was getting Annie's company out of the deal, and while she was his best friend, it wasn't like that company involved anything in the biblical sense, much to his chagrin.

That said, she didn't seem to want to take the hint. "Auggie, if you say no, Danielle will never believe me. She and the kids freaking _loved _you that time at the Smithsonian. She'll just assume I lied to her and continue pestering me until I eventually attempt to stab out my eardrums."

"While I understand that it will be sad for you to never hear my lovely voice again, but that's not my problem," he retorted, and pretended to become very interested in the stuffed-crust pizza they were splitting.

"It _is_ your problem, because Danielle will be the death of me if I don't bring you, and you're my handler. You're supposed to _handle_ the problem that is Danielle," she argued, leaning across the table and poking his shoulder. "So you have to go."

"I most certainly do not have to do anything."

She huffed again, this time even louder and more petulant than before. He heard the waitress's soft question of "Can I get you guys anything else?" and he turned his head towards her, sending the girl a dazzling smile as he asked for another Pepsi.

Annie growled, but the sound was so quiet that he almost missed it, had every molecule on his body not immediately perked up at the sound coming from her lips. "You can hit on the underage waitress, but you can't accompany your best friend of nearly _two years_ to her sister's annual kids' birthday bash?"

"Quite easily, yes," he replied, turning the grin on her. "Because the waitress doesn't come with two classes full of rambunctious munchkins screaming, running around, and in general making what's left of my senses go haywire."

"Pssh, you would be with me the entire time," Annie said, picking up her soda and setting it back down on the table with a soft _click_. "Don't be such a baby."

"That is definitely the right way to convince your best friend to do something he won't do," Auggie pointed out, smirking to himself. "Insults. Oh yeah. Works like a charm."

She let out a little whine of protest but then went silent, apparently _finally _giving up on her useless campaign. Seriously. There wasn't a damned thing on this planet that was going to convince him to go back to that lion's den of third graders—he already experienced it once, thank you very much, when Annie was off on that mission in London.

Unexpectedly, Annie leaned forward, whispered something about his hair looking crazy, and put her hand over his. With her free hand, she ran her fingers through his annoyingly curly hair, her nails ghosting over his scalp just enough to send a shiver straight down his spine and to—well, other areas. The hand over his was shifting almost unconsciously, her thumb brushing his knuckles back and forth teasingly.

"Aug, will you please go with me to Danielle's party? Please?"

At that last, plaintive, breathy _please_, Auggie nearly groaned. Because he wasn't thinking about her saying please here, in this cheap pizza place near Allen's, he was thinking about her saying please, in his bed…

"Sure. Fine. I'll go with you."

Abruptly, Annie pulled back, dropping back into her seat with an excited, chirpy, "Thanks!" She didn't let go of his hand, and before she could think of it his grip tightened around her fingers as comprehension dawned.

She totally played him.

"You're mean," he finally said, half in awe, his voice significantly tighter and more strangled than it had been a minute ago.

She laughed at his misfortune—luckily, he was pretty sure she didn't know about the misfortune going on in the vicinity of his belt buckle.

"I got what I wanted, didn't I?"

$4$

It can never hurt to be a little evil when plotting. :)


	18. Belligerent

Sorry this is a tad later than usual, but I wound up finishing all my work way early today and from here I'll focus on writing.

This is complete and total crack. I have no idea where it came from.

Oh, and itty-bitty throwback to _Bang and Blame_ (2.03).

$4$

**Catawampus: **(adj.) off-center; askew; awry.

* * *

It was official—her best friend was an idiot (and she was smacking him upside the head the second she found him).

Annie pulled alongside the curb outside of Allen's, squinting as she looked out at the inky black sidewalk. There, sitting on the ground under one of the streetlamps, was a hobo, or alternately known as her best friend.

Sweet Mary and Joseph.

Annie pushed open her car door, half standing up and resting her arm on the bright red hood. "Please tell me that you are not _that_ drunk," she called, alerting Hobo Man to her presence.

"Annie!" he cheered, looking up immediately at the sound of her voice. "You're here!"

Annie rolled her eyes and tried not to smile too much. She was not encouraging this behavior. He could go on a bender every day if he really wanted to—though she would be sorely disappointed in him if he did—but calling her to come pick him up instead of a cab service like a normal human being was not acceptable behavior.

She got out of the car, slamming the door shut as he started to stand up. Distantly, she wondered if there was anything more hazardous that a blind man that was also blotto. "Don't get up on my account, Aug," she said dryly. "I'm walking you to the car so you don't trip and give yourself a black eye."

He stood up (barely), holding onto his folded up cane in one hand and gripping the streetlamp tightly with the other. How much had he had to drink tonight? "Thanks, Annie!" he replied too cheerfully, slurring on the ending syllables. "You're such a good friend."

"Oh, I'm more than that," she corrected him, latching onto his free arm and slipping it over her shoulder before he could process anything. "I'm also clairvoyant. I totally called this happening." Immediately, she deepened her voice, putting on what she considered to be a spot-on impersonation of Auggie. "_Oh, don't worry about it, Annie! I'm just gonna go out and have a drink with my old soldier buddies! We're not gonna do anything bad—well, not anything that we'll remember tomorrow, wink._ Hahaha. Asshat."

Auggie snorted into her shoulder, badly containing his laughter. "You called me an asshat," he said between guffaws.

"That's because you are one, Auggie," she grit out, opening up the passenger and shoving him into her car, not without some difficulty. "You know I'm totally getting you back for this, right?"

He chuckled at her dark comment. "Bring it, babe."

Annie flushed at the endearment and closed the door on him, glaring at his handsome profile through the glass. "Asshat," she repeated under her breath. Admittedly, _babe_ was significantly better than _sugarplum_ (not that she was telling him that).

Getting back in her car, Annie glared at the steering wheel for a moment before turning on Auggie. "You realize the only thing that saved you from me kicking your ass for driving out here to pick you up drunk is that you got me out of Danielle's dinner date," she informed him slowly, making sure he was paying attention. Plus, the image of that accountant dude staring at her in horror as she shouted at Auggie over the phone and repeatedly told him to "Stop telling your Army buddies I'm hot! I don't care if I'm hot, that's not the point! Where are you? _August Anderson! _Are you listening to me?" and so on _was_ pretty priceless.

Auggie grinned from ear to ear, leaning heavily back in the seat, his body haphazardly stretched out, legs akimbo. "No," he argued, stretching out the two-letter word so it had several extra syllables. "The only thing that saved me from you kicking my nice ass was that you love me and if you hurt me you would be wracked with guilt."

She was grinning right along with him, but damned if she was going to let him know that. "I think you overestimate my moral compass."

He, however, remained unfazed. "Pssh, keep telling yourself that, babe."

Annie pulled into the relatively empty street, shaking her head to herself. "You calling me babe when you're drunk is going to become a thing, isn't it?" she asked, mostly rhetorically.

"You know it."

It was official—her best friend was an idiot (and also a little awesome).

$4$

This is probably a good example of Art Imitating Life in the form of having a few too many "What the hell are you holding? Stop touching that!" moments with my less than sober friends. And that apparently everybody loves nicknames when drunk. ;)


	19. Clarity

Why is it that every guy Annie gets assigned to work with has to be such a sleaze?

I'm probably blowing this out of proportion, but I feel like there have been too many episodes that involve some guy trying to talk her out of her panties. Don't get me wrong, Piper Perabo is hot (I'm comfortable enough with my sexuality to admit that), sweet Jesus, throw me a bone and give us a guy that isn't interested in using so much charm it borders on smarm.

I'm actually not too concerned about the Office of Congressional Affairs promotion for Auggie—I think we all know this is only going to last three episodes (maybe) because if he actually goes through with the full job, he can't do field work and do we really see USA giving up their leading man (which would have to happen if Annie couldn't drag him on ridiculous missions)?

Plus, I may have cheated early before the season started and heard that Auggie was going out on the field again at some point this season… but you didn't hear it from me. ;)

I will say that I'm interested to see that Jaimie Alexander girl from _Thor_—which was awesome, by the way (I told you guys I'm a comic book nerd)—play a computer techie on _CA_. This'll be the first time Annie has a female handler, and judging by that amusing "You're leaving me" scene in the teaser, I have a feeling there will be resentment and tension galore.

In fact, the only thing I am _not_ looking forward to about the next episode is Auggie's suit. Did anybody else catch a look at that thing? What happened to keeping him in grays and blacks? He is totally hot in dark colors? However, _mustard?_ Who the hell ever looks good in a mustard/brown suit and tie? I'll tell you: _no one._

$4$

**Aphorism: **(n.) a terse saying embodying a general truth, or astute observation.

* * *

Fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-nine… Alright, that's enough of this shit.

"Just because I lost my sight doesn't mean I can't feel your eyes burning in the back of my head," he said shortly, his tone clipped as he tugged off his headphones and swiveled around to face Jai—not that it mattered much, he couldn't see him anyway. "And it's been precisely three minutes. Either you want something or I need to have a talk about your sexual orientation, Wilcox."

Behind him, Jai made an irritated noise in the back of his throat—a tell Auggie had learned early on that was a surefire sign that Satan Incarnate was pissed.

Good.

After Arthur had more or less bumped Jai down to the 4th floor permanently after the lawsuits, the agent was spending more and more of his free time in Tech Ops for some unknown reason. Auggie suspected it was because a majority of the 4th floor hated Jai, and while he was hardly the guy's biggest fan, he was capable of tolerating him when there was a mission (usually Annie's) at stake.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Auggie," Jai replied evenly, his voice too calm and smooth for Auggie's liking. "I don't _want_ anything."

Auggie cocked his head, a grin lighting up his features. "So you _are_ gay," he deduced. "Well, Barber officially owes me forty bucks."

"That's cute, really," Jai cut him, and from the sound of overpriced fabric rubbing together he stood up. "But I'm not gay either. I'm just curious about something."

"You do realize that you're not helping your case in the slightest, right?"

Jai let out a cross between a groan and a growl. Maybe Jai would try to deck him. Auggie might have been blind but he was pretty sure he could take Jai in a fight.

"You really are a son of a bitch sometimes," Jai grit out through clenched teeth. "I'm trying to help you and all you do is succeed in being an ass."

Auggie laughed hollowly. "Tell me, what exactly could I possibly need your help for?" he asked, derision dripping from his voice. Where the hell was Annie? Usually she was back with lunch earlier than this and she could distract Jai from whatever latest high horse he was riding.

He didn't particularly relish listening to Jai flirt with Annie, but even that seemed more enjoyable than that superior tone the bastard was taking on with him.

"Jesus," Jai cursed, apparently pacing if the sound of his Ferragamos against the cheap carpet were any indication. "For all the blind jokes you make at your own expense, you really can't see what's right in front of you, can you?"

Auggie clenched his jaw even tighter, feeling his teeth grind together. "No, I can't," he answered bluntly. "That's what happens when an IED goes off in front of you."

"I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about Annie."

"Annie?" Auggie repeated, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion and just a little bit exasperation. "What the fuck does Annie have to do with any of this?"

"After working together for so long, do you _seriously_ not see what Annie has to do with you?" Jai said, amusement lacing his voice. "Like how you're less of a prick around your people—not that I can tell, but Stu and Barber talk—or how you always wait up for her to get home or leave her messages if you can't or how you're spending less time sleeping your way through the office—and don't even _think_ I care enough to notice, because I don't, but even _Joan_ noticed a difference. You honestly don't see how any of this could possibly relate back to Annie?"

Auggie was silent, anger and confusion brewing steadily within him as he continued to clench and unclench his jaw. What was Jai's angle?

"Hey, guys, I got lunch!" Annie's sweet voice broke through the tense, angry silence as she shoved the sliding glass door open. She only got about two feet into the room when she abruptly stopped, apparently sensing the tension between the two men. "Heyyy… are you guys alright?"

Auggie was the first one to break. "Yeah, we're fine, Annie," he assured her, turning his head in her direction and giving her an impressive facsimile of his usual smile. "What'd ya get us?"

"Sandwiches from Panera," Annie told him. She still sounded hesitant, like she didn't quite believe him, but then there was rustling and she handed him a sandwich.

"Thanks, Annie," Jai said quietly, accepting the sandwich. "I've got work to do so I'll see the two of you later. Think over what I said, Anderson. Maybe then you'll finally figure something out."

There was a beat where Jai walked out of the room—_finally_—and Annie turned back to him. "What was that about?" Jesus, he could _hear_ the frown in her voice.

"Nothing," Auggie said, shaking his head and unwrapping his sandwich. "Jai's just being an ass, like usual. He thinks he knows me so he thinks that means it's alright to lecture me."

Annie sighed, a tired sound that made him want to pull her close to him. "You guys can be so difficult with each other," she observed. Hey, Jai was the difficult one. He was the one saying stupid shit. "I wish you two would learn to work together without it turning into a pissing contest."

She reached over and rubbed his shoulder, and at her soft, warm touch, something inside broke just a little.

Shit. This meant he owed Jai a beer, didn't it.

$4$

This is actually the first time to my memory I've written Jai. I've certainly read enough from you guys, but this was new for me. I don't think I did too badly—in fact, I kind of enjoyed writing the two of the sniping at one another.

When it comes to their job, I think there are a few parallels between Auggie and Jai—or there were, before Auggie lost his sight. So they still continue to act like over competitive teenagers out of pure habit, even when they're trying to help one another.


	20. Pauses

Sorry I'm so late again, guys. I got sidetracked and then I had a fun time installing some new program on my work laptop to scan for the printer (yeah, I don't know). And then I had the roughest time figuring out what I wanted to do with this WotD… it's been a long day.

But I'm going to take a moment to make a little side note here in _KH_ and talk about something completely different—_One of the Boys_. Again, nobody has to read it, but I just want to take a moment to stress that everyone knows this fic will be AU, as in Alternate Universe. I normally don't bother with this stuff (especially not in a different fic) but people seemed to be a little confused about what I wrote not being true to the show—because it's not. It's going to be AU. :) I will include this in Ch. 2's Author's Note as well, but because that won't be uploaded for a while, I felt the need to warn everybody ahead of time. I don't mean to come off sounding like I'm complaining or whining, I just want everyone to be aware.

But anyway, enough about my bitching. On to the WotD!

$4$

**Haw: **(v.) to utter a sound representing a hesitation in pause or speech.

* * *

Annie sighed.

Next to her on the couch, Auggie glanced in her direction out of instinct, even if he couldn't see her. "How long are you going to keep this up?" he asked quietly.

His only response was another, long-suffering sigh.

"You can't keep this up forever, you know," he replied cheerfully to his unanswered question. "Especially not when I'm staying over here with you."

She sighed again; short and terse.

"I don't understand why you're refusing to talk to me though," he continued on conversationally. "Especially when if you fought with me like you usually do we could at least have some quality make up sex after—"

"I'm not speaking to you because I'm mad at you," she replied shortly, her words blurring together as she rushed to get everything out and cut of his train of thought at the same time.

"I understand that you're mad," Auggie assured her, sinking further back into Danielle's amazingly comfortable couch. "What I don't understand is _why_ this has got you so hot under the collar."

"Take a guess," Annie said, through clenched, gritted teeth. She shifted against the couch and he guessed she was crossing her arms—a move she always did when she was angry.

Auggie smirked to himself as he answered, "Danielle and I were just talking. I wasn't aware the subject matter was going to be one to turn your emotional capacity into that of the Hulk's."

He knew she was glaring at him, but it wasn't like he was going to take back the words.

"At no point did I say that it was okay for you to tell my sister that we're dating," she growled back at him.

He laughed outright at her indignation. "Annie, we've been dating for three weeks now," he pointed out with no small amount of amusement. "When were you _planning_ on telling your sister?"

He knew she was most likely doing that thing where she pursed her lips together and half-frowned, half-pouted, which never failed in making him want to kiss that little expression off her face. "I was going to tell her eventually," she finally said after a belated pause. "And the point is, _I_ was going to tell her. Instead, you told her and now all I'll ever hear about is how I hid our illicit relationship from her!"

"Our illicit relationship?" Auggie repeated, confusion and mirth clouding his face. "What did we ever do that was illicit—well, there was that time in the janitor's clo—"

"_Shut up, Auggie_," Annie stressed, her teeth clenching again. "And I never said our relationship was illicit—_she'll_ say that because I hid it for her for longer than like two days. So I'm mad at you for telling her without checking with me first."

Auggie almost considered taking her seriously. Then, with a grin, he shook his head. "I don't think I believe you," he informed her casually, draping his arm across the back of the couch and almost but not quite wrapping it around her. She was probably glaring at him harder than ever, but he continued anyway. "You're pretending to be mad at me, but secretly you're happy because now I've taken the trouble of you having to tell her about us in the first place."

Annie let out another cute little growl. "I did not—you—" she stuttered, exhaling a sharp burst of air through her nose and crossing her arms over her chest tighter. "I hate you."

"I love you, too, babe."

Annie just huffed in response.


	21. The End

I hope everyone's going to have a great holiday weekend! I personally have a familial get-together that's pretty much guaranteed to end in booze and some kind of smack down, but that's also just my family for you. I'm actually leaving work early today, so I'm going to wrap this WotD up as quick as humanly possible. ;)

Sort of a tie back to _Bang and Blame _(ep 1.03) and _Little White Lie_ (Ch. 14), and partly inspired by a comment **celticgina** made a while back…

$4$

**Deciduous: **(adj.) falling off or shed at a particular season; stage of growth, etc.

* * *

After Auggie found out, his first instinct had been to find her.

It wasn't hard; there weren't that many places to hide from prying eyes in the CIA, and in some ways he knew her better than herself. It only took him two tries to figure out her hiding spot—the first had been his Tech Ops office, and Stu explained that Annie had come in for a split-second, saw Auggie wasn't at his usual post, and then booked it out of there just as fast.

So that really only left one other place to go.

Bea had told him, always up to date on the latest gossip, as they waited in line at the Starbucks kiosk—it was strangely poetic, because Bea had been the one to let it slip that they were dating in the first place.

He left right after, nearly abandoning his coffee if it hadn't been for the cute barista Ashlee calling his name. He thanked her with a warm smile but before she could think to flirt back he was already making a beeline for the DPD.

He didn't need to see her to know that she was sitting on the plain stone bench outside the building, watching the water softly cascade and burble around the modern water fountain that had been installed decades ago. She once confessed to him that she found it peaceful—quiet and calm compared to the usual turmoil that came with her job at working for the CIA.

"Some people might misconstrue your ability to find me in less than five minutes as an obsession," she said lightly. He bet she hadn't even bothered turning around to check that he definitely was the one that walked out of the building—she just knew intuitively, the same way he knew where to find her.

It's a wonder Joan hadn't separated them yet. They were really too close for agent and handler.

"Those people also don't know you like I do," he replied, carefully walking around the bench and Annie's long legs. "I can hear the hurt in your voice."

She exhaled, a tad too shakily for his liking. "I guess that means Bea told you what happened?" she asked quietly, shifting next to him. The toe of one of her heels was tapping against the concrete.

"Yeah, I heard," he told her, inclining his head in a small nod.

"Scott left for Guadalajara," Annie explained needlessly—Bea had already given him the quick and dirty the first time, and he wasn't all that keen to hear it from her point of view, truth be told. "And with me leaving for 'Smithsonian work' every other week, we decided it would be best to make a clean break of it. It was getting too difficult to keep this relationship together."

He nodded as understandingly as he could, willing himself not to appear pleased. Because he wasn't happy the guy was gone, per se—he simply liked his life to follow a certain order, and Scott the Doctor did not fit in that order.

"I kinda expected I would be feeling sadder than this, though."

Auggie blinked in silent surprise for a few seconds and then quickly recovered. He studied what he could of her—her posture was relaxed, she was leaning closer than necessary to him out of comfort, her breath was steady and even. Maybe she was finally ready to hear what he had to say.

"It's not a bad thing that you're not really upset," he spoke slowly, choosing his next words with care. "That's usually how rebounds work."

Annie whipped her head up so fast he could feel the air being displaced and her soft blonde hair brushing his shoulder. "What do you mean, rebound?" She didn't sound particularly angry or hurt, and her voice was at the same subdued volume it had been before. Still, he felt her body tense up infinitesimally next to his.

He sighed. She handled the first statement remarkably well, but that was cake compared to him laying it out for her. "I'm your best friend," he stated the obvious first, using the same line that they usually started most heartbreaking conversations with. "And I don't need to be able to see again to know why you started dating Scott." He was proud of himself that he only stumbled a little on Scott the Doctor's name. He didn't resent him. That much.

"You're going to tell me that you're not dating him because he looks a _little_ like Ben?" he continued, finally going in for the kill. She needed to hear it.

Annie sucked in a breath. She was going to argue with him, but then something else entirely fell out of her mouth—"How would you know?"

Auggie shifted slightly under the weight of her gaze. "It's Company policy to background check anyone that's dating an agent." Then, feeling embarrassed along with the painful need to explain himself to her, he added, "There is a reason why the CIA encourages in-house dating. There's no need to check for dirty laundry when they already know everything they need to know about your boyfriend because he works here."

She leaned forward suddenly, brushing against his arm as she propped up her elbows on her knees and put her head in her hands. "I can't believe you checked up on my boyfriend," she moaned, her words muffled through her hands.

He flushed, happy she probably wasn't paying attention to see his sudden return to being 13 again. "I didn't ch—it's Company policy," he repeated flatly, determined to ignore the blood rushing to his cheeks.

Annie snorted her disagreement, but after a tense minute lifted up her head a little bit. "Was Scott really a rebound?"

_God, I hope so._ Auggie winced internally. Shit. He shouldn't be thinking those things—again. "Yes," he said. "Look at it this way: did you really see your relationship with him working out in the long run?"

Annie sighed, nearly soundlessly. "No," she answered in a tired voice.

"Did you have fun though?"

"Yes."

"Did he take your mind off Ben?"

A long pause, and then, "…Yes."

Auggie shrugged and wrapped his arm around her narrow shoulders. "Then he did his job as a rebound."

He knew she was still frowning to herself, even as she mumbled, "I don't think I've ever had a rebound before. I don't think I've ever been in need of one."

He shrugged his broad shoulders once more, not sure how to comment. "They're not much to write home about. They're fun and they don't typically last long, and by the end you realize they don't mean much. But usually when they're over you're ready to start dating someone important seriously."

Annie sat up straighter, leaning more into his side. "I guess you're right," she said slowly. "You know what that means."

He did not, but he stayed silent because he wanted to hear what she had to say—yes, he was important to her, but no, he was her best friend, it would be a terrible idea if they dated—

"I should go ask Jai out now."

Every muscle in Auggie's body tensed in horror, and he had to physically fight off the urge to tackle her before she could leave the bench. In fact, he was so busy being justifiably horrified he almost missed Annie giggling at his expense.

"Sorry," she apologized, obviously not meaning it as she continued to chuckle at his expense. "I couldn't pass up the opportunity. It's funny when you get all twitchy about Jai."

It was absolutely not funny, because for a moment she had him seriously considering murdering the sycophantic bastard, just so he wouldn't have to witness Annie dating him.

She wound her arm around his waist in a one-armed hug and snuggled into his side, instantly making him relax against her like she was really too good at doing. "Come on, bestie," she said, sounding significantly perkier than before. "Let's get work done and then go to Allen's. I'll drive if you buy the first round."

Auggie grinned wide. "Sounds good to me."

$4$

I have been writing in Auggie's point of view a lot lately, and I'm not sure why. _And _they're all getting to be super-long (seriously, this is like twice as long as most of my WotDs). These WotDs seem to fit better with him I guess.

In case you guys were wondering, **celticgina** left a comment on _Little White Lie_ about how she thought Scott the Doctor (that's his new name, btw) was too much like Ben Lite. I still think Scott the Doctor is a cuter Ben Lite than Ben, but I will be honest in admitting part of this inspiration came from her.

Additionally, I'll also give credit to one of my favorite long-term sitcoms, _The Office_, for having a very similar conversation about rebounds between Michael and Jim (only, obviously without the sexual tension and such ;D).


	22. Goodness' Sake

I had a minor freakout this morning when didn't upload their WotD as promptly as they usually do. I was literally planning worst-case scenarios, most of which included using one of the back-up plots as a filler day—yes, I have like three different scenes that I plan on eventually writing for this, provided I get a fitting word.

As it turns out, finally sorted itself out and posted the word… and it just so happens to be a word that works quite nicely with one of those pre-planned plots I was talking about. :)

And I'm totally looking forward to tonight's episode. I'm still remaining blissfully optimistic about Auggie's job in Tech Ops, and I plan on staying that way until I have definitive proof that Auggie's never going out on the field/working with Annie again. And I still don't see USA shooting down that goldmine this early in the show.

$4$

**Aporia: **(n.) difficulty determining the truth of an idea due to equally valid arguments for and against it.

* * *

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Yes, I'm positive. I can't believe you're seriously doubting me right now."

"Annie, I just don't understand how this could possibly be as good compared to—"

"Unless you can magically conjure a crackling fire you are seriously going to have to let that one go."

"It's tradition, Annie. You can't just do this with anything, you need the right kind of setting—"

"August Anderson, we live in metropolitan D.C. How exactly would you suggest we get the right kind of setting right this second?"

"I _wouldn't_, that's why I'm saying settling for subpar is just asking for trouble—"

"_Let it go_. This is not subpar. This is delicious. I seriously doubt I'm going to harm your delicate taste buds if I choose to use a microwave instead of a freakin' fire."

"I beg to differ, which is why I still think it would be a better idea if you just waited until next weekend when I could take you out to the camping grounds like a normal person."

"First, when have I ever been good at waiting for anything? Second, does it really count as you taking me to the camping grounds when I'll be the one that's driving?"

"Now you're just intentionally being cruel."

Annie snorted as the microwave beeped shrilly, signaling the fruits of their labor were finally complete. "Yeah, well, you're being intentionally obstinate so I guess we're even," she muttered under her breath, grinning when she swung the little metal door open and saw how the marshmallows had puffed up nicely in the last fifteen seconds.

She pulled the paper plate out of the microwave, picking up the extra graham cracker off the countertop with her free hand. She nimbly broke the cracker in half, placing one on top of either marshmallow creation.

"Prepare to eat your words, Anderson," she instructed, handing him the paper plate and picking up the s'more closest to her. The marshmallow squished, leaking out at the edges sandwiched between the two graham crackers and piece of chocolate. She attempted to lick around the edges so the marshmallow didn't drip and hopefully avoid extra mess (which wasn't going to work, but whatever.)

As Auggie crunched down loudly on the s'more, she looked over at him, beaming up at him widely. "Do you admit that making I'm right, and making s'mores in the microwave is just as delicious as making them over a fire?" she asked smugly.

"No," Auggie replied, stubborn as ever, his voice thick with chocolate marshmallowy goodness. "But I will admit that it's close."

Annie huffed, but the sound was quickly drowned out by her laughter. "You're making a mess." It was true. He was the one holding the plate and about half the graham cracker crumbs were on his button-down (and how, exactly, did he manage to get chocolate on his cheek?).

"Am not."

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Jesus Christ, I'm best friends with a two-year-old."

"Hey!"

$4$

I will admit this is another Life Inspires Art moment where I was having an argument with my mom about whether or not you could correctly make s'mores in the microwave (you can, I swear. Just put the chocolate/marshmallow/graham cracker in the microwave for like 10 seconds or so. Not campfire-toasted, but close enough.)

Anyway, it made me think of how a similar argument would go between Annie and Auggie and thus the idea for this was born. I think this is in the running for crackiest/fluffiest WotD so far. I used the phrase "chocolate marshmallow goodness" for God's sake. XD


	23. Phobia

I CALLED IT.

Sorry. Just had to get that out. I'm done now. :)

Spoilers for _Around the Sun_ (ep 2.5), sometime between Annie's call to "Riva" and drinks at Allen's.

$4$

**Stonewall:** (v.) to block, stall, or resist intentionally.

* * *

So he couldn't do it.

When presented with the opportunity to move up in the CIA—become one of the three faces representing the whole Company, in fact—and become a tried and true, bonafide member of the seventh floor—with the "big boys," as Annie jokingly referred to it—he balked. And he didn't _just_ balk, he flat-out chickened out.

He wasn't comfortable admitting that part aloud, which was why he told Annie—the only person he might have been honest with—that he stepped down because he missed the DPD and wasn't quite ready to give up whatever glimmering hope that existed that one day, maybe, possibly, hopefully, he could actually get assigned real fieldwork again. Both facts were true enough—he had been chomping at the bit to go out in the field once again for years, and despite Arthur Campbell's architectural dynamos, he did truly miss the familiarity of the Tech Ops.

Plus, that supposedly breathtaking view had nothing on Annie's perfume, which seemed to have ingrained itself in every corner of his office.

Those were all factors that had definitely contributed to his desire to get back to the much less stressful fourth floor, but that wasn't the root of the problem.

And that problem stemmed entirely from those muckrakers standing behind the stuffy blue curtain.

When the Accident happened, Auggie had resigned himself to a lot of things—learning a new language, learning a new way to walk, learning how to cope. But what he hadn't anticipated was a newfound fear of crowds to go along with everything else.

Even before losing his sight, Auggie never liked crowds. Too many people meant stifling temperatures, discomfort, and a general feeling of unease. He was still a trained CIA agent, so he knew how to work crowds—how to use lots of people to distract others, to get lost in a crowd and disappear. But after he was blinded, that mild discomfort was replaced with something bordering on irrational terror.

He learned from his various trainers that crowds were a blind man's Kryptonite. It was extremely hard to focus and dulled the remaining senses—too many voices to hear, too many perfumes and colognes to smell, and too many bodies bumping into him to feel. His trainers had also given him tips on how to cope with crowds, to pick a voice or a smell out of a crowd and focus on only that.

Somehow, when Arthur was praising his second edition of the press release and giving him some kind of joking fatherly advice that didn't reach his ears, Auggie was hit with that old fear like a hurricane.

He was going to go up in front of that crowd and tell all of those loud, antsy journalists about some girl's school. And the thought petrified him.

And what the hell kind of professionally trained CIA agent turns into a, well, scared _school girl_ at the thought of some story-hungry journalists clamoring around a podium?

But even as he mentally berated himself for this sudden onslaught of paranoid fear, he couldn't do a damn thing to stop from turning his body into stone. It didn't matter what Arthur had to say to him—he wasn't going up that fucking podium.

Suffice to say, that hadn't gone over too well, but that wasn't Auggie's crippling phobia's problem.

What he really needed was a good, stiff drink. Tequila would do. Not the good stuff in his drawer, but the cheap, dirty, strong tequila that was only drunk when you had no intention of waking up the next morning. Yeah. That would work.

He was so immersed in his thoughts, standing over his desk chair with a frown on his face, that he missed the sound of the glass door sliding open. By the time he had even processed the door opening, there were already the sharp shots of stilettos sprinting across the tiled floor and Annie was tackling him fast and hard enough to make a seasoned football player proud.

For someone so tiny and blonde, she knew how to take a guy out.

"Oh my God, you're back!" she shouted happily , wrapping her arms even tighter around his neck. "You're back you're back you're back!"

He tried to hug her back but, Jesus, how was she so _little_ and so _strong?_ "Annie, I wasn't even gone a week," he joked, his voice tight—unfortunately, not just because of her hug. She had some kind of really unfair hold over his emotions. "And I think you saw me at least once every day."

"It doesn't matter," she told him cheerfully, burrowing her head even closer under his chin. "That was different, because I could only see you for like five minutes and you were always wearing those stuffy suits—speaking of, we need to get you a new one. Mustard, blue, and brown doesn't really suit your complexion. At all."

Auggie didn't try to stop the smile as he pulled her even closer to him—but what was wrong with that suit? He _liked_ that suit. Well, what he could remember of it, anyway.

"The point is, you're back and I missed you."

Annie had a way of making his phobias seem like good things.

$4$

I'm not going to gloat. I swear. I really enjoyed last night's episode, and I will admit that they totally had me fooled for a second there with that "will he/won't he" press conference—but of course he didn't, because he's Auggie and awesome. But that fear that was totally written all over his face right before he spoke to the journalists was what inspired today's WotD.

I was also loving most of the dialogue last night, too—I'm using Alpha Barbie at some point in regular conversation. And the English major in me has to admit I giggled like an idiot about the Earnest Hemingway and _Crime & Punishment _references, plus Arthur's stress on _we built a girl's school_. I guess when you work for the CIA, you get weird priorities. ;)


	24. Hope

Sooo I have no idea what I'm going to write with this one…

$4$

**Futilitarian: **(adj.) believing that human hopes are vain and unjustified.

* * *

In the last fifteen hours, Annie had moved exactly twice.

Once to get up and go to the bathroom, which she only did out of absolute necessity, and once to stumble into her closet, grab a handful of sweats and that bottle of cabernet her sister gave her for Christmas.

Each time she returned to her designated spot on her alcove couch, curled into the fetal position as she rested her head against the thick curtains. Danielle had visited her a few times, each asking if Annie wanted food, wanted to go out, wanted to know what the hell was wrong with her baby sister.

And every time Annie had no response for her big sister.

It wasn't as though she could just come right out and tell Danielle what happened. Smithsonian staff didn't have run-ins with Russian terrorists and certainly didn't shoot people or witness the death of their contact. If she told Danielle what actually happened, she would also have to explain _why_ she was doing those things. Telling her sister about the CIA was not on her to-do list.

Annie rested her head against the window, shutting her eyes for a moment. Every time she did, all she could see were the bodies. A fifteen-year-old boy had died in her care, and she had been forced to kill three men to save her own life. The mission was scrapped, the intel was ruined, and Annie had to go back to the States with the knowledge that she failed—truly, completely failed, worse even than that art dealer who knew Ben—for the first time.

Her only saving grace had been that the mission ended—if you wanted to call it that—on Friday. She had to keep it together long enough to be debriefed and then she could go home and avoid everyone and everything for 48 blissful hours.

She wrapped her arms more securely around her knees, pulling her sweatpants-clad legs closer to her chest. She winced when someone knocked on the door—her room was completely silent, the only aspect that came close to comforting her.

"I'm fine, Danielle," she called. She was too exhausted to bother controlling her tone, and as a result she sounded just as depressed and forlorn as she felt. "I'm not hungry, either." She stared at the open bottle of cabernet propped up on the floor. There was probably only a quarter left, certainly not enough to get her properly drunk for the rest of the weekend. Goddammit.

"Uhh… I'm not Danielle."

Annie picked up her head sharply, and immediately winced, regretting the action. As much as she wanted to get properly drunk for the next day and a half, drinking three-quarters of a bottle of wine on an empty stomach was a poor decision.

"So do you mind if I come in?"

As happy as she was to hear Auggie's voice on the other side of her door—he was, after all, the only person that she knew and trusted enough to understand her pain—she felt a wave of guilt. He didn't need to be here, to comfort her when he could easily be out with the other Tech Ops guys or picking up another pretty brunette.

"Sure, Auggie," she said. Her voice was hoarse from lack of use, along with unshed tears. When he started to walk into her room, she added, "But you really don't need to be here."

"Au contraire, mon amour," he replied, smiling softly. "Your sister called me and said you had holed yourself up in here and were refusing to come out. She remembered me from that horrible Smithsonian tour—which, by the way, you still owe me for—and since she didn't know any of your other friends from work, she was forced to resort to calling me. I guess it's a true stroke of luck that I also happen to be your best friend."

Annie groaned tiredly and dropped her head on her knees. "How the hell did she get your phone number?"

"She kept the number I gave her after the tour."

Annie looked up at him once more, eyes wide. "You gave her your number before me?"

"No," Auggie said, badly hiding a smirk. "I gave her one of the CIA's numbers, specifically the one of the Smithsonian. Not the number for my cell phone."

"Oh," Annie said lamely. "Well, do you at least want to sit on the couch with me, instead of standing awkwardly ten feet away from me?"

He smiled wider. "I would, but I don't know the layout of your room and I'd prefer not to humiliate myself by tripping over a chair."

"Oh," she repeated again, mentally smacking herself. Now was not the time for her to lose what brain cells she had left.

As much as it pained her to do so, Annie got up off the couch, crossing her room and carefully wrapping her fingers around his bicep. Before she could lead him to the couch, he caught her wrist and gently pulled her towards him, securing her with a strong arm around her waist. She immediately gave into the hug, melting into him as her arms wound around his neck and she rested her head against his chest.

"It gets easier," he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of her head. "It stops hurting so much after a while, I promise."

And for the first time in the last fifteen hours, Annie finally started to cry.

$4$

Well, this was heavy and extremely depressing, a pretty much polar opposite from the last couple fluff-fests. If no one reviews, I don't blame you, I don't typically subscribe to this much angst because it's not my forte.


	25. Use Your Words

I know I was lazy and skipped the WotD on Friday, but I finally got to go to the beach for the first time this summer (and for me, having to wait this long was painful), but **Artemis Rayne** posted on Friday _and_ Saturday so that should've been more than enough to keep you guys at bay. ;)

Writing all of these have been really fun for me, because they're not too much of a commitment, plot-wise, but I also love reading everybody's reaction through reviews. Plus, it's really cool to see freedback from some amazing authors I know from other fandoms (like **Absentia**—I'm showing my age here, but if any of you remember _Teen Titans_ she wrote some great stuff). I really appreciate everything you guys have to say. :D

And this doesn't happen often, but anyone observant enough to notice will see that, despite having the same word, my definition and **Artemis Rayne's** are different. There were like four different options, and this one spoke to me for reasons that you'll understand soon.

$4$

**Trig: **(adj.) In good physical condition; sound; well.

* * *

Annie let out a huff of air, eyeing the detail in her brand-new D&G wedges. "My sister takes less time to pick out a shirt than you do!" she called, tipping her head back against the couch.

One of the best things about Auggie's apartment had to be his couch. While she didn't particularly subscribe to the rest of his monotone décor, she loved his couch. Super comfy, broken in the right kind of way, and it smelled like Auggie. It was a good couch.

But not even his awesome couch could detract her impatience. Auggie was taking _forever_ to change out of his work clothes (since when was that a big deal? She was still wearing her pantsuit) and all she wanted to do was go out to Allen's for the night, but apparently her best friend was doing everything in his power to make that not happen.

"_Auggie_," she groaned, stretching out the word into multiple syllables. "Can we go now?"

"You're so whiny!" he shouted back, his voice muffled from the walls that separated him from the confines of his surprisingly big closet. "And I might be able to move faster if someone could help undress me…"

Annie laughed, shaking her head so hard her ponytail smacked her cheeks. "Har, har," she said when she caught her breath. "Yeah, you're gonna have to manage that one on your own, buddy."

She stretched in his couch, flexing her cramped toes in her shoes. Auggie had finally stepped out of his closet and into the doorway separating his bedroom from the living room. "Annie, I can't believe you wouldn't help a disabled guy out."

She glanced over at him, still chuckling to herself and said, "Oh, yeah, you're really _disabled_, Anderson."

Well, that's what she was going to say, anyway. All that did come out was a chuckle, and then her voice sort of dried up. That's because, when Auggie stepped out of his closet, he was in the process of pulling on another one of the many nerdy t-shirts he owned, and she got a spectacular view of his chest.

For the record, this was hardly the first time she had seen a man's naked chest. In fact, she could recall a time or two she had seen Auggie shirtless. And even if she hadn't, she knew he more than kept up with his old Special Forces regimen. To say he was in good shape was putting it lightly.

But, for the most part, she didn't think of Auggie that way. She knew him as the tech whiz, not the trained soldier. There was a lot of overlap, but to her for the most part, he would always be Auggie Anderson, the slightly too charming computer nerd.

Until of course, she was presented with information completely disproving that little label. Like watching him pull on a t-shirt. Then all thinking went out the window.

Because Auggie was most definitely _not_ your run of the mill computer nerd.

"You ready to go, princess?" His teasing tone brought her out of her reverie, but it did nothing to assuage the unsettled feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Sure, soldier boy," she snapped, standing up from the couch none to steadily. "Though I'm pretty sure _I_ should be the one calling you princess for the amount of time it took you to grab a stupid shirt."

"I like this shirt," he argued, pointing to the screenprint of Yoda.

Really? Because she was pretty sure she'd like it better on the floor.

Annie winced, grateful he couldn't see her expression as she headed for the door.

"Whatever, nerd," she replied, pointedly ignoring his cocky smirk.

There was no doubt about it: Auggie was_ healthy_.


	26. Fishbowls

I don't write enough of her, and that's something I really need to fix.

$4$

**Assay: **(v.) to examine or analyze.

* * *

Despite working for the Central Intelligence Agency, a job that required a protection of secrets and a specialty in deception, the office was nothing short of a fishbowl.

Joan had been aware of this going back to her fieldwork days, when Arthur was still an agent himself and married to Gina. They liked to pretend that no one in the office ever caught on to their illicit affair, but if Joan was being honest with herself, she knew better. In a job like this, there were few things you could successfully keep from your coworkers.

When Joan took up her new position as head of the DPD, one thing the promotion afforded her was the ability to keep a better eye over her agents. Before that, she still knew all of their whereabouts at all times, but she didn't have the same opportunity to carefully watch over their interactions outside the office.

It wasn't quite an even tradeoff for losing her privileges to go out in the field, but it was entertaining enough that she could pretend it was equal.

The running joke was that the CIA encouraged inter-office dating. It was something that was typically told to the green agents on their first day, and she knew Auggie had said as much to Annie when she first arrived. From then on, it was water cooler gossip, whispers in the hallways, and speculation galore. And don't think she wasn't aware of that $750 pot Stu and Barber and about half of the DPD had going on under the table.

It wasn't explicitly in the job description, but one of the most important aspects of her position was to know every last detail about her agents. She knew Auggie's reputation, both before and after Tikrit. Before Annie's arrival, the thought only caused her to smirk—she didn't care who her agents brought to bed, be it criminally stupid coeds or not, so long as they didn't leak information and it didn't interfere with their job. She was no one's mother.

She couldn't for the life of her remember the last time her office was this interested in the status of two agents. She knew about that imbecilic letter that was passed around the female agents when Wilcox arrived, and she was even aware of Barber's extra trips to the accounting department to accidentally on purpose run into that redhead. She knew everything that went on in her office, 'secrets' be damned.

So when Auggie and Annie showed up Thursday morning, speculation went wild, as this had been the third consecutive morning she had driven him to work that morning instead of him taking his usual car service. That had to be a sure sign they had finally started dating—everyone had been expecting from the first day she had dragged him with her to the coroner's.

Joan just smiled in her office as she watched Annie hipcheck Auggie before heading back to her cubicle. Because what the rest of the office didn't know was that Auggie and Annie had been dating for four months now, something they had managed to successfully keep from everyone in the office… except her.

But she wasn't going to tell anyone, because she was kind of hoping Stu would win the bet.

$4$

This is surprisingly short (and early!) from me, but I had fun writing it. :D


	27. Bags

I _know_, I just posted Chapter 3 of _One of the Boys_ and I'm already uploading my WotD, but what can I say? I'm impressively productive today.

HA. That rhymed.

(Shutting up now.)

Consider this my version of the time between _The Outsiders_ (ep 2.6) and next week's, _Half a World Away_ (2.7).

$4$

**Gumption:** (n.) initiative; aggressiveness; resourcefulness.

* * *

When Jai admitted to her that the motorcycles had been Auggie's idea, she had to grin a little. He knew her ridiculously well (even for best friends). It was kind of impossible for her not to notice that.

So, as a thank you, she showed up to his apartment a couple nights later with a six pack and a large extra cheese, pepperoni and mushroom pizza. It probably wasn't enough to completely cover 'thank you for saving my ass in Belarus _and_ with my sister _again_,' but short of buying him a second house, she wasn't really sure if there was anything she could do that could completely cover that hefty list of IOUs.

When Auggie pushed the door open, he was already grinning ear to ear. "You know, Walker, this could qualify as stalk—is that pizza?"

She snickered, holding the pizza higher and waving it in front of him so he could smell the deliciousness. "I bought you a pizza as thanks," she explained. "And I brought beer, too."

Auggie groaned, making her laugh some more, and stepped aside so she could slide past him with her cargo. "I knew there was a reason I loved you, woman."

"Who are you calling woman?" she shot back over her shoulder, heading straight for his kitchen. He had fresh grated cheese in his fridge from some expensive health store that was absolutely to die for. "I brought you pizza _and_ beer _and_ can kick your ass just about any day of the week."

She set down the pizza and six pack on the counter and propped open his wide refrigerator. He stocked enough food to survive the next four apocalypses and she _still_ didn't understand how he managed to never gain weight.

"Yes, and if you remember correct I was the one that taught you how to kick ass," he said cheerfully, pulling out the pizza cutter from the drawer closest to the fridge. Her derisive laugh turned into a hum of appreciation when she finally located that elusive container of grated cheese.

"You know, I can always leave and take my beer and pizza with me," she reminded him, standing up straight and glaring playfully into his unseeing eyes. He never needed to see her to know what she was thinking or doing.

He grinned right back at her, calling her bluff. "Annie, you would never do anything so unsportsmanlike."

For her part, Annie arched an eyebrow. "Really?" she taunted. "Watch me."

She made a move to walk around him, but before she could take more than two steps, his arm was around her middle and he was hauling her up against him. "Oh, I don't think so."

She let out an outraged laugh and struggled, shoving her elbow into his gut, not hard enough to hurt, merely make him let out a grunt of air. She scrabbled with him a little more, still laughing and desperately trying not to fall (which was actually exceedingly difficult when you were wearing heels on a hardwood floor).

But then something in his apartment caught her eye and she froze. In that time he managed to pin her to his impressively strong chest, but it didn't matter.

"Auggie, why is there a suitcase outside your bedroom?" she asked, her lips oddly numb. At her question, he froze, too, but somehow didn't manage to lose his grip around her waist.

She wasn't precisely sure why the sight of that nondescript black suitcase and duffel bag filled her with such dread. He could be visiting his family for once (she wasn't sure on the exact details, but she knew he didn't visit very often).

"I requested time off with Joan," he said quietly, but it didn't matter because she could feel the vibrations through his chest along her back. "I'm heading to Tikrit."

If possible, Annie stilled even more. "You're going back to Tikrit, the place where you lost your sight?" she repeated slowly, trying desperately to understand.

"Yes," Auggie confirmed, and something in him tensed. "But please don't try to talk me out of it. There's something I need to do there—"

Annie swallowed thickly. "No, it's fine," she cut him off. They were still standing awkwardly in the middle of his kitchen, her back pressed to his front, him holding her in place. Oddly, she was grateful for their weird position because she knew if she saw his face she would do something embarrassing like cry or beg him not to leave. "You're a big boy, you can do whatever you want. I'm not going to lecture you."

Finally realizing the implications of their stance, she pulled away. He immediately let go of her, and she found herself missing his warmth and presence for a moment. She turned around to face him, and tried not to read too much into the pain written all over his face.

"Thank you," he said, hanging his head just a little. "You're probably the only person that could have talked me out of going."

Oh, God, twist the knife, why don't you?

She faked a smile, but it didn't work too well. Probably for the best he couldn't see it. "Yeah, well, just do me a favor."

"Anything."

Her stomach twisted and turned at the startling desperation in his tone. She swallowed heavily and as she stuttered out, "Just… try not to get into too much trouble. Please."

A ghost of Auggie's usual smile flitted across his face, and he leaned in once more, his hand coming into contact with her arm and giving her a comforting squeeze. "Come on, you know me better than that."

A disbelieving laugh escaped her throat before she could think twice. She desperately wanted to grab him and pull him into a tight hug and bury her face in his neck and never let him go… "Yeah, that's the problem," she said instead, tugging his hand off her arm and lacing her fingers with his. "I know you too well. So I know what kind of mayhem you can get into."

He smiled for real this time, but instead of comforting her, it only made her want to cry more. But the tears were for later, when she was back in her bed alone. Now was time for beer and best friends and the rapidly cooling pizza on his countertop.

"C'mon, soldier boy, let's eat some pizza," she told him softly, bumping his shoulder with hers as she ignored the bags set up against the wall.

Auggie grinned back at her, giving her hand another too comforting squeeze. "Couldn't have said it better."

$4$

Is it Tuesday yet?

Seriously though, next week's episode looks pretty kickass. Well, they're giving him more airtime to wander around shirtless. Of course it'll be kickass.

I remember hearing about this episode a couple days before the show started season 2, and I didn't realize until last night's preview that 'Auggie before the accident' and 'Auggie gets into some kind of mayhem' would be the same episode. I'm a far cry from disappointed, but I will say that I remember something about them mentioning Auggie "helping out" a stewardess/flight attendant (which one is the PC term, again?). So we might have to prepare for that. ;)

But, similar to last week, this week's episode was _awesome_. I like Riva, in a socially inept, tech nerd kind of way. Probably stems from the fact that I've had a handful of computer geek friends over the years (because I'm also a geek).

And again I will repeat myself: _was Jai always that jacked?_ I mean, it's not to say I like him more than Auggie (HA). But last season I spent most of my time glowering at the TV when I saw his face, and considered him on par with Ben. I gotta give the writers credit, because he's significantly more likeable this season. Not enough for me to like him dating Annie, but enough that I don't consider him as much of an insufferable asshat. Plus, the motorcycle _did_ kind of make him hotter. A little.

Speaking of which, it was not even fair how _cute_ they made the last five minutes of the episode. I was expecting minimal Annie/Auggie because she was all the way in freakin' Belarus with Riva, but they decided to pleasantly surprise me with enough fluff to cause a toothache. He knows her every move because she's 'unexpected'… yeah. Okay, sweetie.

This is a little bit of a downer, but the inspiration is partly taken from the short phone call in the preview and plain old experience. No one wants someone they love to intentionally go back to a place that hurt them (physically or otherwise) so badly before.

USA will probably do something completely different with this, but I can't resist putting my own Auggie/Annie spin on it.


	28. Residence

I know, I skipped yesterday again. I got sidetracked with work, and I've also been trying to write a new oneshot for _Royal Pains_ (yeah, I'll watch almost anything USA attaches to its name. Except _Fairly Legal._ Could not get interested in that one for the life of me). I'm still working on the oneshot, which is being more difficult than I would like it to be, but I still had to finish this WotD.

$4$

**Apodictic: **(adj.) necessarily true or logically certain.

* * *

"Why don't you move in with me?"

He could've picked better time to ask a question like _that_ than when he did. As it was, she had just taken a sip of soda from her glass… and then started choking on it. Some went up her nose, some went down the wrong pipe, and the rest got spit all across his freakishly neat and orderly living room.

Auggie's arm, already wrapped comfortably around her shoulders, immediately shifted and started rubbing her back, nudging her to sit upright. "Hey, are you okay?" he asked, speaking to her soft and soothing.

She wasn't okay, actually. Tears were springing up in the corners of her eyes as she wheezed pathetically, throat and nose burning from the carbonation. "_What_ did you ask me?" she heaved, in between gasps of air.

The rhythmic pressure of his hand on her back faltered for a moment. "I asked if you wanted to move in with me," he told her once more, and without looking back at him she heard the concerned frown in his voice.

Her breathing was regulating once more, but the tears in her eyes and the tightness behind her sinuses hadn't decreased any. So she _had_ heard him right. He asked her to move in with him. In his apartment, with all his precious tech and impressive Mingus collection. Away from the guesthouse her sister and her family. With him.

"We've only been dating for eight months," she pointed out, her voice small. Technically a lie, because they were closer to nine months than eight, but now was not the time to argue math.

"I know," Auggie replied. He had stopped rubbing her back, but his hand was still there, fingers resting along the line of her spine. He sounded tense as he reasoned, "Eight months isn't a long time, but we've been pretty serious—at least, I'm not expecting us to—"

"No," Annie interrupted the start of his ramble with a soft tone. It was very, very rare when August Anderson sounded this unsure of himself. "I'm not expecting us to, either."

Her words had an effect on him, like always, and he smiled a little and continued on with his speech. "I was thinking about it and you already basically spend all your time here, anyway," he drawled, and at his too lecherous grin she smacked his side. "Besides, my bed is significantly more comfortable than yours."

Annie's eyebrows rose. "Debatable," she quipped, but pulled away, sitting up completely and shifting so she could look him head on.

"But, Aug," she began, faltering slightly. "Are you sure? I mean, you have everything here set up a specific way. And I'm not exactly the neatest human being on the planet."

"You're a mess," he cut to the chase, still smiling. "And I've tripped on your shoes, purses, and jackets more times than I can count in the last eight months, and it still hasn't become a deal breaker for me yet. I think I can last with you living with me. In fact, it might actually be _easier_ if you live with me because then you can use my closet or drawers or whatever and keep your pointy shoes away from my poor abused feet."

On instinct, Annie rolled her eyes and laughed. "Baby," she admonished, smacking his side once more. "You know this won't exactly be easy, right?"

She had never lived with a man before. Oh, there had been plenty of adult sleepovers and long weekends and a handful of shared vacations, but—if her flash-in-the-pan relationship with Ben had taught her anything—she had never dated anyone long enough to seriously consider living with him fulltime. But this was—as stupidly clichéd as it sounded—different. She and Auggie were going strong after almost nine months, and it didn't show any signs of slowing down. If anything, it seemed like everything was pointing straight towards permanence.

"Annie, I'm CIA," he told her proudly. "I think I can handle the challenge."

She laughed once more and slugged his bicep. "Oh, okay, CIA Man, that makes me feel so much better."

"It should," Auggie said, laughing right along with her. "I am a wonderful person to live with."

"I'm sure."

He paused, his smile more sincere, gentle. "So then you will?"

"Live with you?" Annie repeated, mostly for her own benefit. Pushing past the butterflies in her stomach, she nodded once. "Yeah, Aug. I'd love to."

"Good," he said excitedly, his wide grin infectious. Abruptly he stood up, finding and latching onto her hand and dragging him along with him. "C'mon. Let's christen the sheets."

She giggled despite herself, shaken her head at her boyfriend's switch. Insufferable. "Haven't we already done that?" she asked, half-rhetorically. "Like, a lot?"

"It's bad luck," he said, with a wink that replaced those butterflies in her stomach with something a lot hotter.

"Well, when you put it that way." Annie grinned and followed him back to their bed.

$4$

Another longish one, to make up for yesterday.

This was a little unexpected, but it mostly went where I wanted it to go. I don't write enough of these with Annie and Auggie already dating, and with the word today I figured this was an easy opportunity. :)


	29. The Better

So I missed Thursday, and I figured it would only be fair to post something today because I have some nice downtime to write.

$4$

**Torque: **(n.) the moment of a force that tends to cause rotation.

* * *

At the time, it had been a relatively innocuous comment.

He and Stu had been working hard on this piece of intel, when Annie came click-clacking in, touting her usual carton of coffees and pastries. She dropped his black coffee and blueberry scone on his desk, hip-checked him as hello, and informed him cheerfully that his breakfast was at his ten o'clock.

Since this wasn't any different from any other Wednesday, he didn't think anything of it, thanking her with a grin of his own.

She deposited the rest of the coffees to his team, giving his shoulder one last squeeze before heading back to her desk.

He had paused the Mingus that had been piping through his headphones when she walked in, so there was no way he could miss what Stu mumbled under his breath the second Annie slid the glass door shut.

Auggie stopped in his tracks, his fingers hovering over his keys. He had heard Stu correctly, he just didn't understand what possessed Stu to say it.

Under normal circumstances (read: if he was in a shittier mood), Auggie probably would have called Stu on his out of character snarkiness. But rather than put one of his favorite (excluding Annie, of course) coworkers in his place, Auggie stayed silent, mulling over the comment curiously.

He remained like this for most of the day, uncharacteristically silent as he tried and failed to decode that simple little sentence. This continued all the way past work, into his apartment as he sat on his couch, half-listening to whatever was on TV and nursing a bottle of beer.

_Thank God Annie Walker came into Anderson's life_. That's what Stu had said. Like life was so horrible before Annie turned his life in the CIA upside down. Granted, he was slightly less of a workaholic than before (only slightly), and maybe his sense of humor had improved some (but only some), and there was a small possibility he wasn't bringing as many of the women he met at Allen's back to his apartment (but very small. And that didn't mean anything.)

So maybe Annie Walker was having an impact on his life. That didn't mean anything. He was exactly the same person he was before. Only a smidge less grumpy.

And if his personality _had_ improved, that was entirely because of him, not because he happened to have acquired a new best friend that looked like a cheerleader and knew him better than he knew himself.

He was going to keep telling himself that until he believed it.

"_Annie. Walker. Annie. Walker._"

Auggie winced but automatically picked up his phone as the electronic voice continued to bleat the name of the very woman he was so staunchly pretending had no effect on his life. "Hey, Walker, what's up?"

"Mmm, I'm wondering if you feel like going out to Allen's," she said over the phone, and it wasn't like that sound of her voice made him grin immediately or anything. He wasn't fourteen anymore, dammit. "But I'm feeling lazy tonight and thinking more along the lines of popcorn and a movie, personally."

"Couldn't think of anything I'd want to do more," he replied easily. Relaxing at home with a movie did sound like a good idea… because he needed the opportunity to unwind, not because the sound of her voice made the kinks in his neck and shoulders unknot, just a little.

"Sweet," she replied. He had a feeling she had a fantastic smile. "You make the popcorn, I'll bring the movie."

"Sure. See you in a few," he told her, unable to hide his excited grin.

Thank God Annie Walker came into Auggie's life.

$4$

Fluffy. It's all I'm good for. :)


	30. Alarm

I'm exhausted from work, but I'm determined to write my WotD. The timing this week is going to be wonkier than usual because I'm taking off Wednesday to go see _Jersey Boys_, but I'm going to _try_ to upload every day, or if not, then double-up Thursday. :)

I normally don't discuss the other TV shows I watch (well, not _too_ often) but for anyone who watches _Leverage_, dear Lord how adorable was last night's episode? I'm a diehard Hardison/Parker shipper (like Annie/Auggie only with a thief and a nerdy hacker), and there was just so much cuteness last night it hurt. If I have time and I can get my life in order for once, I'm probably going to try to write something for them. :D

This has been done a couple times before, particularly by **Artemis Rayne**, and probably a handful of other fantastic writers I can't remember at the moment. Normally I would try for something more out of the box, but I've wanted to write about this for a while.

$4$

**Canonical: **(adj.) authorized; recognized; accepted.

* * *

Annie woke with a start, muscles tensing automatically as it took her brain a millisecond to reorient itself with its surroundings. There was a crack followed by an ominous _boom_ of thunder, and her muscles seized up once more, and then relaxed. Thunderstorms. The weatherman on ABC had been predicting rain for the last five days, but she didn't typically put much stock in weathermen for a reason.

But as she propped herself up on one elbow and rubbed her face tiredly, she knew her atypical sleep pattern wasn't because of the storm. It hadn't been thunder that had woken her up (though it was freakishly loud), it had been something else. Something like—

_Brrrring._

For the third time in as many minutes, Annie jumped. Biting back a curse, she rolled over on her stomach, blindly fumbling for her cell phone on her nightstand. It better not have been Joan, demanding she get out of bed and go fix whatever crisis was plaguing the CIA today. She was not getting out of bed under _any_ circumstances.

She finally extricated her phone after several fumbling attempts, yanking it out of her charger and pressing the green touch screen button mostly on instinct. "Walker," she grunted into her phone, shutting her eyes and badly stifling a yawn.

"Annie?"

Annie sat upright sharply, and winced when her temples protested the abrupt action. "Auggie?" she asked into the phone, confusion and uncertainty seeping into her sleep-hazed voice. "Hey. What's up?"

"Nothing," he replied quickly. His voice sounded weird, but she was too tired and distracted to properly place it. "I just—I wanted to talk."

"Talk?" she said, with a laugh, rolling over on her side. She dropped her head back on her pillow, propping up her phone to her ear as she let her eyes drift shut for a few blissful minutes. "You mean that brunette I saw you with at the bar didn't want to talk to you? Oh, no. Whatever will this do to your reputation?"

"She left a while ago."

Annie's eyes flew open. O-kay. That was more than she wanted to know about her best friend, walk of shame jokes aside.

"Besides, she's not exactly—not someone I would want to talk about this."

Her eyebrows raised she sat up a little more. She opened her mouth—to ask him what _this_ he was talking about—but before she could get the first syllable out, there was another ominous rumble of thunder, so loud that for a second she could've swore it shook the house. But as loud as the thunder was, she couldn't miss the sound of Auggie's voice over the line, an instantly recognizable whine.

"Auggie?" she asked, fully sitting up once more. "Auggie? What—are you—are you okay?"

"No," he replied, and finally she put her finger on that emotion that was distorting his comforting, deep baritone—fear. "I am not okay."

She shoved off her sheets and blankets and comforters all once, running her fingers haphazardly through her blonde locks. "Aug," she tried to catch his attention, but when he didn't respond, she repeated his name. "Aug, honey? Do you want me to come over?"

It seemed like a natural offer, one that would ease the tightening panic that was welling up in her chest. This was new territory for the both of them—he saved her, it rarely happened the other way around. And she only had half an idea what was going on—she was sleep-deprived and more than a little freaked out, but it wasn't hard to understand what the thunder meant—but offering to come over and calm him down seemed like a rational reaction.

"No—no," Auggie stuttered, and then sighed. Annie slid out of her bed anyway, glancing out her window just in time to see a streak of lightning turn the black sky bluish grey for a split-second. Two seconds later, thunder. At that same terrified whimper, Annie headed straight for her closet, yanking down her raincoat and pulling out the first pair of waterproof shoes she found—her old hiking boots.

"You don't need to—" Auggie continued after several deep breaths. "I just need to talk to someone. I need—I need to hear your voice."

The raw sincerity made her pause, midway through pulling on her boot. Cradling her phone in between her ear and shoulder, she spoke slowly. "Okay, honey. We can talk if that's what you need. What do you want to talk about?"

She was pretty sure he laughed at her question, but his voice was so strained and tight it came out as a choke. She shrugged on her jacket and swiped her keys from her dresser, barely having half a mind to grab her purse with her driver's license in it—she was that freaked out. "I really don't care, Annie," he answered. "Just keep talking to me. Anything."

Annie half-sprinted, half-stumbled to her car, not even bothering to pull her hood up as the rain poured down all around her. "Okay, sure, I'll keep talking," she assured him, ducking into her car just as another crash wracked through the air.

She heard him whine again, but she ignored it and kept on talking. "Astraphobia," she said hurriedly, starting up her car with shaking hands and praying he couldn't hear the sound of the engine starting up. "That's what the fear of thunderstorms is called. My sister used to have it, actually. When we were little. She would get so freaked out she couldn't fall back asleep. So she would sneak into my room. My dad always said I could sleep through the atomic bomb, but Dani—Dani was a light sleeper. We both pretended I didn't know she was sneaking into my room at night and falling asleep next to me and then sneaking back out before morning. She was the big sister, she wasn't supposed to get scared and need me to take care of her."

The rain made it almost impossible to see more than a couple feet in front of her, even with her high beams on and the wipers going at full blast. Luckily, no one was on the road at this time of night on a Sunday, so she didn't feel too guilty about breaking a couple laws to get there on time.

There was more thunder as she slid into a—probably illegal—parallel parking spot, and she could almost hear Auggie tense over the phone. "So you have two storm-fearing crazies in your life, that's what you're trying to say?" he asked rhetorically, but he was practically panting into the receiver.

"She got over it as we got older," Annie rambled, jogging to catch up with a man that was inexplicably walking his pint-sized Chihuahua in this downpour as he unlocked the door to get into Auggie's building. He held it open for her and she smiled appreciatively, continuing, "By the time we were in high school, she had other things to worry about. Like being valedictorian and the cheerleading captain. So technically I only have one storm-fearing crazy in my life at the moment."

She was completely out of breath by the time she reached his door, but by that point she was too scared to really care. She pounded the side of her fist against his door, resting her forehead gently on the cool metal and concentrating on her breathing.

Through the phone, Auggie sounded very far away and not where he actually was, which was about a dozen-odd feet from her. "Someone—someone's at the door."

"Go answer it," Annie replied breathlessly. "I'm not going anywhere."

He was evidently carrying the phone with him, because she heard him ask tentatively, "Annie, you didn't—"

The second he pulled the door open, Annie slid into the threshold, barely having enough presence of mind to end the phone call before she invaded his space, throwing her arms around his neck without any care.

The second he felt her touch—even through her wet raincoat and damp clothing—he let out another pained whimper, but this time it was for a completely different reason. His arms went around her waist and he pulled her completely against him, even though he didn't have on a shirt and he was drenched with sweat and her whole body was cold and wet. His knees buckled as he buried his face in her hair, but she didn't try to hold them up. Instead, she let them slide slowly to the floor, legs tangling together as she sat on the floor and held him.

She distantly realized her face was damp with a different kind of water as she whispered, "You didn't seriously think I was going to leave you here alone, did you?"

Auggie mumbled something incomprehensible into her neck and she concentrated on rubbing his wide shoulders comfortingly. He was her best friend. And if she had to stay here and lose sleep every night under the storms broke up, she was going to do it.

$4$

O-kay. This was really long (probably the longest of all my WotDs), and really intense. I was a little afraid that this wouldn't fit today's definition, but I looked at it again and it works, I think. In an oblique, sort of abstract kind of way.

I hope you guys like it, all the same!


	31. Black Knight

About damned time. Today's finally Tuesday, which means I will have to watch tonight's episode like five times before I can actually pay attention to the plot and not, y'know, shirtless Auggie.

In case anyone's wondering, tomorrow I will probably not upload a WotD (or, if I do, it won't be until late at night) and if/when that happens, I'll be doubling up on Thursday. :)

Oh, and I'm normally so amused by the WotD suggestions, but I swear to God they made up a word. Not to mention it's not even _close_ to how it's supposed to be pronounced (according to , it's "TSOOK-tsvang." Does anybody else see that? Because I so don't.)

Wacky German words…

And this is set somewhere between _All the Right Friends _(2.04) and _Around the Sun_ (2.05). Because I have to write something Auggie-related the day of tonight's episode. ;)

$4$

**Zugzwang: **(n.) A situation in which a player is limited to moves that have a damaging effect.

* * *

When he thought of his position in the CIA, he thought of chess.

It wasn't a particularly original comparison, nor a new one, but it was all he had and clichés were clichés for a reason.

Every move served a purpose; some had more detrimental effects than others, but the bottom line was that there was no such thing as cut and dried decisions in the CIA. The only way to get ahead was to be five moves ahead of everyone else.

This wasn't new for Auggie. He was good with plans; that was how he got his job in the DPD and how he kept it long enough to become head of the Tech Ops division. He had a plan for everything, from twelve different escape routes for any given mission to what car service took him home on a Tuesday night.

But for all his plans, nothing prepared him for Arthur's promotion. To say it blew everything out of the water would not do justice to the bomb Campbell just dropped on his lap. Head of the OCA is nothing to sneeze at, by any means, but it was hardly a position he had been angling for in the next couple of years. When he was in his fifties, yeah, maybe the OCA would start looking pretty good, but he liked his job in Tech Ops. He liked being a handler. It wasn't quite in the action, but it was pretty damn close.

Granted, if he was thinking about being in the action, there was no doubt in his mind that he would chew off his right arm if it meant Joan would clear him for fieldwork. He was built for fieldwork, and had been doing it since he enlisted, black ops missions, reconnaissance, anything, everything the CIA needed to prove he was just as good, if not better, than those fourth-generation agents.

Hey, no one ever said this job was a pretty one.

And then he was blinded in Tikrit. And he rolled with it—learned Braille, used the cane, picked up his old skills with a computer, everything and anything to prove that he was just as useful to the CIA now as he was with his sight. And, by some small miracle—and possibly the fact that Joan always had a soft spot for him—he stayed in the CIA.

Even blind, there was still a very, very small window of opportunity for him to get action in the field. If he kept up his work, went above and beyond, and maybe wore Joan down just a little bit, there was a chance, a very good one, that at some point in the future he could be doing the real work that the CIA man in him was just itching to get back.

As he talked to Arthur, the _no_ is right there, on the tip of his tongue, ready to be released so he can go back to his normal life with his normal job where there is a 10-percent chance of him one day making it out in the field as opposed to a 0-percent one. But before that thought could get any further, it was stopped by something much larger and more important.

Annie.

She was still stuck in Argentina with some flirty spy/journalist and the chances of getting her out safely or without an arrest were dwindling with every passing second. The best and neatest solution would be to get her out by helicopter, but the DPD didn't have that kind of pull. The head of the DCS, however, did.

The CIA wasn't really a "teamwork" kind of environment. Frequently, agents had to work with other agents they disliked for the betterment of an op or an asset, but for the most part, this was a "one for all" business. Which, when he was first starting out, suited his needs just fine.

He wasn't sure, but he couldn't imagine there were that many people in the CIA willing to risk a promotion for the sake of another agent, or, alternately, take a promotion for the sole purpose of saving that other agent. The implications behind inspired a healthy dose of fear, because it meant that at some point this went past just being her handler, and for once he didn't have the slightest clue what that meant.

But this was one of those few times when he wasn't thinking for himself and himself only, so he figured it wouldn't be that big of a deal to break the other rule of always plan ahead. Instead, he asked Arthur if there were any perks for working as the head of the OCA—like, for instance, extracting an agent out of Argentina.

And with that, his decision was made.

$4$

This was significantly easier to write now that we all know Auggie's not going anywhere. ;)

I hoped you guys all liked today's WotD, and I hope you'll be eagerly awaiting tonight's episode like me!


	32. Pilfered

Hi! I'm here! I swear. :)

Last night's episode was… wow. Damn. Umm. Yeah.

(It's always a good sign when I'm down to one-word syllables.)

I totally thought the stewardess chick was either going to turn out to be a spy for Khani or wind up dead. I guess it's petty of me to hope it was the 'dead' option (what? She served the same purpose as every Bond girl ever) but I wasn't expecting her to just disappear without much of an explanation. Ehh, whatever, she's not coming back and I got to see lots and lots (and lots and _lots_) gratuitous Auggie shirtless-ness. How has their wardrobe manager not just burned all of his shirts already?

And I must it is _not fair_ that we have a hottttttt Auggie episode and directly after I have to deal with Ben coming back. _Why aren't you dead yet, Mercer?_

$4$

**Dearth: **(n.) an inadequate supply; scarcity; lack.

* * *

Annie stared at the kitchen cabinet incomprehensibly. It wasn't possible. She had _just_ put them there yesterday. Where could they have gone that fast?

Fruitlessly, she shoved aside various food products, including but not limited to three different kinds of Hostess boxes, two bags of pretzels (sticks _and_ regular), and a family sized bag of Cool Ranch Doritos.

Annie tossed her head back and bellowed, "_August Anderson!_"

Auggie dutifully popped his head from around his bedroom doorway. He swiveled his head around, eyes searching for her pointlessly in a knee-jerk reaction. "Yes, Annie, dear?" he said beguilingly. One look at his far too innocent expression and she knew he was already aware of her anger.

"Where is it?" she demanded, narrowing her brown eyes. She shoved the cabinet door shut and stalked over to where her boyfriend was standing.

"Where's what?" he quizzed with a cheeky grin.

She let out a tiny little growl and punched his chest—ineffectively, but it still counted for something—and snapped, "You know what I'm talking about, Anderson."

"I quite honestly don't," he informed her, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

"Liar," she shot back. "You're awful when you're smug. Now—_where is it?_"

"Yeah, if you don't tell me what it is, I really can't tell you where to find it," he informed her, his grin wide and devious as he turned to head back into the bedroom.

Annie growled again and glared at his back. "You're such an ass," she muttered darkly under her breath as she followed behind him. "Where the hell did you put my Cheez Doodles?"

"Ohhh, your _Cheez Doodles_," Auggie said, tilting his head back in mock-understanding. "Yeah. Those are gone."

She nearly blew a gasket. "You ate my Cheez Doodles?"

There was a beat where he tried—seriously tried—to contain his laughter, but he was doubled over laughing before either of them knew it. "That's it," she decided loudly, over the sound of his guffaws. "I'm moving out. I can't live with someone that _steals my snack foods_."

She turned on her heel to stalk out of the bedroom dramatically, but before she could get more than a few steps he had his hand around her wrist and his arm around her waist. She growled _again_ and cursed his ability to be so intuitively linked to her body. "I could always make it up to you," he replied convincingly, making sure she was as close to him as their clothing allowed so the reverberations of his voice travelled up her spine and made her nerves ping pleasantly.

And as absolutely promising as that offer sounded, she wasn't budging. "Sex does not get my Cheez Doodles back, Anderson."

He laughed but didn't let go of her for a second, nuzzling his nose and mouth against the side of her neck. "Dammit, you drive a hard bargain."

"Why do you think we've lived together for this long?" she said, and couldn't resist squirming against him, just a little bit.

"And you're buying me a new bag of Cheez Doodles."

$4$

Technically, this is late, but I did warn I might be posting this on Thursday. Oddly enough, this is the first time I've written and posted something this late at night (with my work schedule and everything else, I've been able to write during the day, which completely goes against my nature as a PM writer) and I think it shows. This is completely fluffy, cracky nonsense. XD


	33. Stresser

**Artemis** already used something extremely similar to this first, but I think I can wriggle it so that's a little different. ;)

This has two ties to two of my previous works: one, a small reference to _Fishbowls_ (26), and one of my oneshots in _Don't Call It a Comeback _(_Didn't See Anything_, 19).

Also, I stole Stu's last name from **Beth – Geek Chick** again. It's cool, she understands my ability to be too lazy to make a last name of my own.

$4$

**Détente: **(n.) a relaxing of tension, especially between nations.

* * *

Katy was not new to her little bubble in the Starbucks kiosk. It took a while for her to get used to lying about her job (because when her mother asked her where she worked, it wasn't exactly socially acceptable to respond, "Starbucks. Only you can never visit me because it's inside the CIA building at Langley and you don't have the proper clearance."), but she had gotten over it. Once she accepted that this was generally a weird place to work, she had mostly gotten past it.

And it _was_ really weird. She wasn't anything resembling useful to the CIA, but she was privy to more information than most people realized. Not actually case-sensitive information, like assets or missions or dark ops or whatever real CIA agents did, but the good stuff.

Gossip.

She always knew when the Campbells were fighting. Director Campbell would order a large coffee, black, on those days and if he happened to spot Agent Campbell waiting in line he would intimidate whatever poor barista was working the register into paying for his wife. Katy noticed that usually only served to piss off Agent Campbell even further, but it wasn't like she was going to point that out to the head of the freaking DCS.

When Jai Wilcox ordered his latte and chocolate chip muffin and spent the entire time drumming his fingers erratically on the counter as he waited for his order, Katy knew Henry Wilcox was in the building and by extension pissing his son off. She was extra-careful with his order on those days because he tended to snap at people without really meaning it.

One of the field agents, Annie Walker, had been the coffee delivery girl for the DPD, and in the span of a few short years there had been a ton of talk about her. She was no longer the 'new girl,' but the amount of missions she had taken on and completed (not to mention her old fling with the resident CIA bad boy Ben Mercer) made her pretty well known around these parts.

It was no secret she was very close with her handler and the head of the Tech Ops division, Auggie Anderson, either. Losing his sight all those years ago had done nothing to dampen his good looks or charming personality. Auggie had quite a reputation with women, but Annie had her fair share of trysts in the CIA as well. Katy had been listening to gossip about the two of them for nearly as long as Annie had been working there. Most of it was false, but she was also way more tuned in to the grapevine than everyone else so she knew how to separate the truth from the lies.

Annie and Auggie frequently grabbed coffee together, and there had been a few times when he had even flirted with Katy. Flattered as she was, she never bothered returning his comments, choosing only to blush prettily and stutter out his order total. Unlike some baristas she could mention, Katy was not willing to succumb to that Cheshire grin. Not to mention, she had seen that almost imperceptible frown grace Annie's features in the past, and she was smart enough to know not to make an enemy out of the highly trained and experienced agent. Some people (like Emily, for example) were not nearly as observant with things like that.

What no one else knew (at least, not for sure) was that Auggie and Annie had been seeing one another for several months. Well, maybe not _no one_. She could bet Agent Campbell was aware of their relationship, if not because they had told her then out of pure intuition. The woman was a fantastic(ally terrifying) agent for a reason. And she had seen the surreptitious glances Stu Heatherton, another one of the tech guys, had sent his boss' way. Stu was actually pretty cute, in a nerdy/awkward way.

For anyone who paid the right kind of attention to the dynamic duo, it was almost too easy to notice the change. Auggie smiled a lot more. Not that knee-melting, James Bond roguish grin, but a real, genuinely happy smile. And when Annie led him to the Starbucks, she walked closer with him, wedged right up against his side like any perception of personal space had been gone long ago. Which in a way, Katy figured, it already had.

Lately, Stu had been acting weird though. For the last four days, he had shown up at her kiosk jumpy and nervous, twitching a little every time one of the other baristas called out an order. She was extra nice to him, half out of concern and half out of pure curiosity. She was hardly agent material but she wasn't incompetent. She hadn't missed that Annie and Auggie were barely around for the same four days. She had only seen Annie once, and the woman was practically a blur as she zipped past the kiosk without so much as a glance. Clearly, something was going on and it was affecting Stu in the most negative way possible.

And then on the fifth day, miraculously, Stu sauntered up to her little haven with a wide grin and an extra bounce in his step. If she didn't know better, she could swear the whackadoodle was bipolar or something.

"I'll get an extra scone, too, blueberry," he said after rattling off his usual order. She took it all down with a smile, but couldn't resist eyeing him uncertainly.

After fixing up his order and setting everything out, she couldn't quell her curiosity any further. "Are you okay?" she asked with a healthy amount of caution.

Stu looked startled at her question (or maybe it was that she had spoken to him at all; he was extremely shy and she really wasn't sure) but grinned even wider after a second. "I'm fantastic, thanks," he replied brightly.

Katy cocked her head to the side, more confused than ever to the point where she forgot the job she was supposed to be doing. "Really? You've seemed kind of… frazzled these last few days."

Stu blushed (which was pretty freaking adorable) as he replied, "Yeah, I kinda have. My, uh, boss has been going through this thing with his girlfri—well, let's just say he's not the most pleasant person to be around when he's pissed."

Her blue-grey eyes widened when she connected the dots. "They had a fight?" she asked empathetically. "Oh, they didn't break up, right?"

There were only a couple other people in line, and two or three were giving them odd looks. Stu's blush deepened further as he tried to shrug like it was nothing. "Between you and me, I think it was their first."

Katy's pale eyebrows disappeared under her strawberry blonde bangs as she let out a silent whistle. First fight. Those were always the _worst_. But then, fantastic make-up sex after always sort of outweighed the initial negatives.

"But they made up, so now I no longer have to live in fear," Stu continued, unaware of her train of thought. His grin turning suddenly shy, he added, "I have a feeling it's going to be a good day."

Katy couldn't resist a wink as she replied, "I certainly hope so."

$4$

This wasn't too much like **Artemis'**, right? This is one of the rare few times that our plots so closely mirror one another's.

And in case you weren't aware, I stole Katy and her personality from the girl Stu has a crush on in my _Don't Call It a Comeback_ fic. ;) I couldn't resist.


	34. Close Save

Evidently, I've lost my mind.

Luckily, this fact won't affect my WotDs, because I'm still more than capable of writing for _CA_, but I decided it would be a good idea to submit a pitch for a contest this writing website, Authonomy is hosting (check it out. It's a pretty neat website, I just have no time to use it when I spend 98% of my free time on ). The pitch is for a novel I've been tossing around in my head for the last several months, and as promising as it sounds (to me) I have no delusions whatsoever that I'll win this thing. It was just fun to try my hand at writing a pitch, something I'll have to do eventually if I ever want to turn this into something resembling a career.

Or I can just hang out on forever. Both options are pretty likely.

Spoilers for _Bang and Blame_ (2.03). Yes, I too am shocked it took me this long to get around to it.

$4$

**Feign: **(n.) to invent fictitiously or deceptively, as a story or an excuse.

* * *

_Shit shit shit shit shit_—Annie had been cursing up a storm for the last thirty seconds, rushing to finish the files as quickly as possible. If the files had been computerized, there wouldn't have been a problem. Thirty seconds with one of Auggie's tech toys and she would've been out of there in a flash. But these were hardcopy files, and the most efficient and accurate method of transfer involved a digital camera and a lot of patience.

Patience wasn't her thing, which was half the reason why her classy dress heel was going a mile a minute. The longer she took, the more likely someone would come into the office to investigate. Her job was dangerous enough on its own; throwing in a top secret undercover FBI investigation at an extremely important Governor's Ball in D.C. was just adding insult to injury.

It was pretty cool to see so many of her coworkers dressed their finest. Arthur and Joan were there, but for actual official business with real invitations and everything. The rest of the agents were expected to slip by unnoticed—Auggie and his tech people may or may not have hacked the guest list and faked a dozen or so covers to get people in.

Annie was one such person, and given the illustrious task of gathering the intel required to discern who among the FBI happened to be a mole. Any other day this might have been at very least passably entertaining, but she had been fighting a migraine for the last half hour and she really wanted to go home and take a nice long bath. Photocopying files page by page was taking way too long.

She was down to her last file when she heard it. That metallic little _click_ that signified someone unlocking a door. A door that she was on the other side of.

"Shit shit shit shit," Annie cursed some more, unaware her repetitive inner monologue was now being spoken aloud. She scrambled, hastily arranging the papers into the file as neatly as she could before throwing them back in their original spot in the cherry wood filing cabinet. She then slid her tiny camera back into her equally miniscule clutch.

"Annie? You okay?" That was Auggie, over her comlink, but she was busy scanning the expansive room for any escape routes to formulate a coherent response.

"Someone's coming," she growled, growing even more frustrated with every passing second. She had mere seconds, and despite the size of the room there was no where big enough to hide. Apparently, the governor's aide wasn't a big fan of clutter.

That left one other option. The bathroom. It was connected to the aide's office. Once in, there were no other doors out, but maybe if she was quiet and timed it right no one would check out the bathroom and then she could slip back out unnoticed.

"I'm assuming you're heading for the bathroom."

He had to stop reading her mind so well. Now wasn't the time to argue about that, so she made a quiet noise of assent and slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind her about a half-second before whoever was on the other side opened the office door.

She squinted in the darkness, pressing her back against the wall watching as the light flickered on in the office. Something that sounded suspiciously like too girlish giggles was coming from the other side of it, followed by the low baritone of someone decidedly male.

Oh, for Christ's…

She had been had by two idiots trying to get laid. And she called herself a damned CIA agent.

Annie narrowed her eyes but held her breath all the same. This wasn't going to be fun (especially depending on how long it took them to wrap things up) but it could always be worse.

That was the thought that had _just_ flitted through her mind when the woman said something that ended with "the little girls' room."

As much as she wanted to snicker at the "little girls' room" phrase, she was too busy cursing again, backing up from the door. _Shit_. She had no way out. And it was all going to end because two dumbasses couldn't keep it in their pants.

Behind her, the linen closet door, a door that she hadn't noticed in the pitch black room, opened without a sound and arm snuck out, colliding with her shoulder. Annie let out a strangled gasp and caught the wrist, but before she could do much else his other arm was around her waist, tugging her backwards until she was backed up against the wall.

She realized it was _Auggie_ that was, in fact, attacking her about a moment before the door opened (again, because this night was never going to end) and someone flipped the light switch. The world was bathed in bright white and yellow, and it took Annie a few seconds to blink past the purple spots blooming in front of her eyes.

"Ohmigosh!"

Somehow, during the span of their brief scuffle, Auggie covered her body with his, hiding her mostly from view. He couldn't really do much about her nails still digging into his collarbone or her viselike grip on his bicep that was sure to leave a bruise tomorrow morning. She didn't know how or when, but at some point he had managed to lose his jacket, bowtie, and shirt. Which meant, to anyone who didn't know better, it looked like they were…

Her night could _not_ get better.

"Oopsie," the ditz said, her big blue eyes comically wide. Her blouse was half undone and coming out of her ridiculously expensive skirt but she still had the presence of mind to stare, riveted, at Auggie's back. Because Annie's night wasn't fucked up enough.

Her date for the night, who just so happened to be the aide whose office this belonged to, stumbled into the bathroom after her. Unfortunately, Annie was still trying to get her wits together after the last thirty seconds of pure confusion, so she mostly gaped at the two of them and blushed deeply. Which, luckily, worked pretty well with Auggie's last-minute plan.

Just as the aide demanded, "What the _hell?_" Auggie turned half around, 'glancing' at them over his shoulder with a shit eating grin. She wanted so desperately to roll her eyes at his antics, but tamped it down. That probably wouldn't be the appropriate reaction of someone so willing to hook up with him in someone else's bathroom.

"Sorry," he apologized, but the grin pretty much demolished the sincerity. "Thought no one was in here." Annie noticed he still hadn't loosened his grip around her wrist _or_ waist, and it was making her antsy.

"This is _my_ office!" the aide bleated pathetically, his voice breaking on the word. For a second, Annie felt pity for the dumb bottle blonde. Okay, she hadn't _actually_ hooked up with Auggie, but at least he looked hot and sure as hell wasn't a pansy.

"Sorry, man," Auggie repeated, still not managing to sound the slightest bit apologetic. "It was empty and we figured no one would be the wiser."

She made a silent prayer that the aide wouldn't remember that he wouldn't remember that in order for them to have gotten into his office they would've had to pick the lock. Finally finding her voice, she nudged Auggie until he made room for her and loosened his grip around her wrist some. "Sorry," she said lamely, "We really didn't mean you make you guys angry. We're just, uh, gonna be going."

"Works for me, sugarplum," Auggie replied cheekily, intentionally throwing the _first _time he saved her ass using almost this exact same situation in her face. She dug her nails harder into his arm as punishment. She was going to murder him the second there were no witnesses around.

As fast as she humanly could, she scooped Auggie's shirt and jacket off the floor (ohh, he was just the worst kind of person…) and grabbed him by the arm, all but dragging him out of the bathroom before the aide could ask anything else—like their names.

Of course, that didn't stop the bottle blonde from catching her eye and winking, only to mouth, "_Good for you_," like what she was 'doing' with Auggie was some kind of accomplishment.

She was aware she wasn't correctly leading her blind best friend as they headed for the door, but she was blushing like crazy and embarrassed out of her mind. She pushed him out the door, shoving his clothing into his chest as she grit through her teeth, "I cannot believe you."

"What?" Auggie said too earnestly. "I was just helping you. You clearly needed it."

She narrowed her eyes at the barb and switched topics. "How the hell did you get into the bathroom?"

"Servant quarters," he explained, pulling on his shirt over wide shoulders. "This place has been around since the 18th century. I told you to read up on the building's layout."

Unable to argue with that (because he _had_ told her, like eight or nine times) she settled for punching his side hard enough that he was knocked off balance for a second. Not quite a witty response, but pretty satisfying.

"Anything to take your shirt off, huh, Anderson?" she quipped, folding her arms across her chest.

"Like you're complaining, Walker."


	35. Missing

So over the weekend, this broke 200 reviews. I haven't had such a great response since _Don't Call It a Comeback_ (yes. No glaring. I _am_ working on it. Once I'm finished with _One of the Boys_). I'm so appreciative of everyone's feedback. It's been really great to see what you guys have to say.

And hopefully **Artemis** and I won't have the _exact_ same idea for this one…

$4$

**Handsel: **(n.) first encounter with or use of something taken as a token of what will follow.

* * *

Dinah pushed curly white-blonde hair out of her eyes. "Kid, if you don't knock that off soon I'm going to hit you with something," she drawled, not looking up from her laptop screen for a second."

Behind her, Annie tensed. How did she know? "I'm not doing anything," she protested weakly, slumping against the cheap plywood headboard. Their motel room was tiny and old, but at least it was clean. That was basically all two CIA field agents could ask for in the outskirts of the Lithuanian border.

"Bullshit," Dinah replied, all business. She was attempting to patch a connection with Langley—for someone outside any of the tech departments, she was really good with computers—but so far, there hadn't been any luck finding cell towers to carry out such a connection. "You're fidgeting."

Annie sighed heavily but stopped playing with her finger. "It's not like I was being loud," she answered, a note of petulance lacing her voice. She hated when they just had to hang out during a mission until they could get further information. She didn't do well with sitting still. "I wasn't tapping my foot or anything."

"No, instead you were rubbing the spot where your ring is supposed to be," Dinah replied evenly, tapping away on the computer and smirking to herself. "No, you weren't doing anything loud, but it's still annoying and obvious."

Annie's dark eyes turned to saucers as she stared at the back Dinah's head incomprehensibly. "Wha—I don't—I don't know what you mean."

She chuckled darkly, shaking her head. "Sorry, kid, but you're not getting that one past me," she replied dryly. "Fourth finger on your left hand? A green agent two minutes off the Farm could figure that one out, and I've got ten-plus years under my belt and a husband that works on the fifth floor. You're not getting anything past me."

Annie blushed hotly, sitting up straight in her little twin bed. Dinah finally stopped working long enough to swivel around and fixed her with her blue-eyed gaze. "So how long?"

Giving up the crappy ruse, Annie sighed and stared down at her hand dejectedly. "It happened a week ago. I thought I still wasn't used to it but then we were sent on this mission and I can't wear it and suddenly my hand seems so weird and empty without it."

Dinah clucked her tongue, smirking thoughtfully to herself. "Yeah, something similar happened to me once," she admitted, tilting her head and thinking of things past. "And we had gotten into a fight right before I left, too. I was _so_ pissed at him at the time. 'Course, Queen's always been a blockhead."

Annie smiled and shook her head. "We did not get into an argument, luckily," she said softly, sighing. "Though it would be a far cry from our first one. We're both what you would call, uh, blockheads."

Dinah chuckled and leaned against the chair, resting her black-leather clad arm against the edge. "Yeah, I can be a bit of a blockhead, too," she admitted. "So do you have a date set yet?"

Annie let out a sputtering sound. "F-for our _wedding_?" she asked. "Considering we've only been engaged for a week and two and a half of those days I've been in a different country? No, we do not have a date set."

Dinah smiled. "You know, May is a lovely time of year."

Annie couldn't hide her grin. She'd have to mention that to Auggie when they got back.

$4$

For anyone curious and geeky enough, yes, I based her character on _that_ Dinah (and, by extension, _that_ Queen). Because making nerdy references is more amusing to me than creating a new character. :D


	36. Natural Disaster

Once more, life is getting in the way of writing, so I'll tell you all right away I'm absolutely exhausted. I'm not entirely sure I'll even be able to make it to 10 tonight to watch _CA_. If I do miss it, I won't feel too guilty because it's another Ben episode and, with the exception of the show's writers, I don't know anyone that actually enjoys watching a Ben episode. Of course, I'm also biased (and partly delirious) but I've only ever seen him in an episode of _L&O: Criminal Intent_ and an ep of _Buffy_ and he doesn't seem to ever not play a jackass. Though the _Buffy_ episode was good because he played a jackass trapped with the spirit of a hyena.

What? _Buffy _was my generation's version of _Twilight_. Only, you know, well-written.

And I love that so many of my wonderful readers got that I was referring to Dinah Lance (Black Canary) and Oliver Queen (Green Arrow) from DC Comics. :D Glad to know I'm not the only comic geek around here.

$4$

**Mantic: **(adj.) of or pertaining to divination.

* * *

Hindsight's a funny thing.

It must be—if it wasn't, there wouldn't be so many clichés about it. Her job didn't afford her much opportunity to look back—at the CIA, it was pretty much push forward at every turn, never look back. The only time it was acceptable was when an agent wrote up a report or gave a debriefing. If agents didn't focus on the present, nostalgia or guilt or regret set in and ultimately you wind up with either a dead or burned agent.

Annie had no intention of becoming either, so she did her best to never look back, only press on towards the future.

Her relationship—or lack thereof—with Ben hindered that plan from ever completely happening. Every time she came close to moving on, he blew back into her life, always bringing a heaping dose of trouble along with him. It made her think of an old Judy Garland song, about Old Man Trouble and not minding him but not finding him around her door. Her non-relationship with Ben seemed to be a lot like that.

Every time Ben reappeared, she was always secretly elated—at first. It was an unfortunate byproduct, and instinctual reaction that she hasn't learned to quash yet. Luckily, that high never lasted for very long—usually because right after she's being shot at by whatever bad guys Ben dragged along with him.

Like most natural disasters, Annie learned early on to buckle down and protect her loved ones. It's no different when Hurricane Ben rolled in.

And after the dust had settled and the bad guys were in jail, Ben would disappear again. That was why she never stayed happy for long when he was around. At the end of the day for Ben, the chase would always trump his relationship with her. The fact stung, but she knew it was the truth. And whenever she admitted that fact to herself—which usually happened at some point during the days following Ben's latest disappearance—she always thought about Sri Lanka. Those three weeks of heaven, followed by two years of not-quite hell. And, inevitably, at some point she wondered if it was all worth it.

If she hadn't gone to Sri Lanka she never would have been sucked into this vortex of dysfunctional love. She probably wouldn't be a CIA agent, either. Which meant never getting to know Jai, or proving herself to Joan. And that definitely meant never meeting Auggie. As much repeated destruction as Hurricane Ben had caused, working for the CIA and befriending August Anderson made things just a little bit better. And that made ever meeting Ben worth it.

Because, when it came down to it, if some genie in a bottle offered her the ability to look into the future and see everything that would happen to her, she'd say no every time.

$4$

For anyone curious, the song Annie's referring to is Judy Garland's classic, "I've Got Rhythm."

This feels a little off to me somehow (probably because it's abysmally short), but I can't think of any way to change it without changing the whole thing. So this'll stay the way it is, because I like it enough to leave it alone.

(And I can't think of divination without thinking of Professor Trelawney.)


	37. The Deal

JOAN WAS IN THE FIELD.

It needed to be said. I thought last night's episode was going to be painful, but considering, it went way better than I expected. Probably because Joan kicked some major ass which only caused my girlcrush on her to rise to unhealthy levels. And it also outweighed the fact that, a season and a half later, Ben's just as much as a putz as he was in the first episode. I'm happy Annie finally, _finally_ grew a backbone, but did it bother anyone else that she still continued to flirt with the asshat? I mean, yeah, she turned him down to go hang out with Doctor Scott, but there was still a level of sexual tension that had no right to be there considering the way he treated her (even if it _was_ for the job).

I'm so disappointed in Jai, too. I was finally starting to like him (though we're not going to discuss how USA conveniently forgot about Liza/Papa Wilcox until the 8th episode in) and he's got to screw it up.

And I was really concerned that we're already doing our season finale already in two weeks with only ten episodes… and then I cheated (thanks, Wikipedia!) and learned that they're bringing it back during the winter for a six-episode arc. :D We're not done yet!

Oh, and Auggie copped a feel.

Tag to _Focus_ (10).

$4$

**Hoary:** (adj.) tedious from familiarity; stale.

* * *

"Annie?"

She glanced up. It had been over fifteen hours, and while she knew there couldn't get any better company than this, she was really bored. And her usual tolerance for boredom was low enough already.

"Yes?" she questioned primly, sitting up properly in her seat.

"I'm never letting Joan put you in the surveillance van again."

She deflated, torn between smiling and frowning at Auggie's perfectly neutral expression. At the other end of the (not big enough) van, Stu and two other tech guys were working on some kind of new bug prototype that would be tested later that night, but she could see their smirks.

"I told Joan this was a bad idea," she protested, eyeing the computer screens set up for anything new or interesting to pop up after the last fifteen eventless hours. "I hate the surveillance van."

"Hey!" Stu called, insulted. Auggie chuckled and added, "Watch what you say in the van." For computer nerds, they took their work very seriously.

She smiled as she amended, "Not you. I don't hate any of you. You guys are cool. However, sitting in a parked car twiddling my thumbs? I hate that."

Annie wasn't sure, but she could've sworn one of the guys chuckled and muttered, "She thinks we're cool." An eye roll in that situation was almost mandatory.

"You heard Joan's orders," Auggie replied, pulling one of his headphones off his ear momentarily to look her way. "She said in no uncertain terms that no one will leave the van until the surveillance is over. And she'll be reserving a special level of torture for me if I let _you_ go anywhere. She still secretly holds me responsible for letting you go off after the Estonian and all those dangerous champagne corks."

She flushed at the memory. He wasn't mocking her to be an ass, just to prove a point. Danger had a way of following her most missions. "Well, I haven't left the van yet," she pointed out, fiddling with her own set of headphones.

"'Yet' being the operative word in that sentence," he replied smoothly, grinning to himself. She knew she tended to be annoying on missions like this, but it wasn't _that_ funny.

"And even if I left the van, it would only be to stretch my legs," Annie continued despite herself. "Like around the block. I can't get into any trouble walking around the block."

"Joan would say differently."

Annie huffed a little but continued watching the camera feed quietly. She could be a good little surveillance-van-sitting agent, promise. After less than a minute, Auggie abruptly pulled his headphones off his ears completely and turned to face her, the wide grin on his face sending off all kinds of warning bells that she wasn't going to like whatever came out of his mouth.

"Tell you what. You can leave the van if you straddle me on your way out like you did the last time."

Annie blushed hotly, aware of the laughter at the front of the van. However, when she leaned over and punched Auggie's arm hard enough to make him let out a very unmanly-like yelp, the louder-than-before laughter was significantly more satisfying.

See, she could too get used to the van.


	38. Waiting

This is ridiculously late, but I got sick this afternoon so I wound up sleeping for about three and a half hours. Luckily, I already had something for this word planned out so it's just a matter of copying it down.

Spoilers for _Welcome to the Occupation_ (2.08).

$4$

**Deadpan: **(adj.) marked by or accomplished with a careful pretense of seriousness or calm detachment.

* * *

There was a reason he disliked letting new people into his office.

Arthur wasn't what anyone might consider 'new,' and as his boss' superior he had no right to kick him out, but at the moment all he wanted to do in the world to shove him out the sliding glass door. Even if the barked demands weren't stressful enough, the constant sound of Arthur's Ferragamos pacing back and forth across the tiled floor was grating Auggie's last nerve.

Auggie understood Arthur's stress more than he liked to admit. Usually he was the one barking orders and pacing like a madman, but today they needed someone to keep a level head. Joan, Annie, Ben Mercer, and Megan Wilkons were trapped in with a bunch of terrorists with no way of outside contact and a freshly severed connection with the CIA. Auggie wanted to lose it because the stakes in a situation like this were too high, and the percentage of success too low.

But Annie was in there, and she had Joan's help and (as much as he hated admitting it) Mercer's, too. Joan was a fantastic agent when she was in the field, and while he'd only been around long enough to see her in action for a few months, he knew she hadn't lost any of her skills sitting behind a desk for a few years.

And despite being a bastard, Mercer was one of the best, too. He remembered the old need to be out in the field 24/7, going from one op to the next smoothly with hardly any pause. On some level, he still had that familiar itch under his skin but right now, they needed him for the job he was paid to do. And part of that job unfortunately included calming down the older man behind him.

There was no way to get to them without at least one of their operatives winding up injured or dead. They needed to trust Annie and Joan and Mercer to make the right decisions and get everyone out in one piece.

But Joan wasn't just an operative to Arthur; she was his wife. Auggie was a far cry from monogamous; Tash had been the closest he'd ever come to thinking about 'settling down.' He didn't have much, if any, experience in understanding a husband's terror. But the tenser Arthur became, the more it affected Auggie.

Arthur pleased something about his wife for the third or fourth time and Auggie nearly broke. "Arthur, I get it. Annie's out there, too." That had been on the tip of his tongue, ready to break through if not for his Special Forces training. Comparing Annie to Joan was dangerously stupid, because under no circumstances was his relationship with her anything close to Joan and Arthur's marriage. The only plausible justification behind that moronic thought was stress. Athur's pacing had finally gotten to him, and now he was thinking truly crazy things.

He was relating too much to Arthur, too. His sympathy was creating parallels that weren't actually there. There had been too many times in the last year that involved him reacting the same way as Arthur as he scrambled to keep Annie alive as best as he could in an office sometimes thousands of miles away. But they were not married (or _dating_) and telling Arthur he understood his fear by comparing his best friend to his _wife_ was about as stupid as stupid gets.

God, he could not _wait_ for this mission to be over.

$4$

Finished with an hour to spare. Now to sleep for several hours and hope I'm all better tomorrow…


	39. Open Bar

I hate doing this, but changes are coming. As of 5 o'clock today, this is my last day working at my internship. Bizarre, because it feels like I just started a week ago, but nope, apparently not.

I'm not going to stop writing the WotD. The hours that I post, however, may get significantly wonkier because I won't have a set number of hours to work on writing. But because I'm so ridiculously close to 50 WotDs (11 more to go! w00t!) I want to least accomplish that marker before I head back to school. I'm going to continue to try to post on a Monday-Friday schedule, because that's what I'm used to after so many weeks. Hopefully I won't stop even after I pass 50, but at the moment that's the closest I have to a goal so we'll just stick with that. ;)

And I'm still battling whatever bug from hell I caught yesterday, so I have no idea how wonky this is going to get.

$4$

**Aureate: **(adj.) characterized by an ornate style of writing or speaking.

* * *

"Annie!"

Almost on cue, she jumped eyes wide as she swiveled to the unmistakable sound of Auggie's voice shouting out her name. She nearly dropped the heavy cardstock clutched between her fingers, only saving it at the last second. "What?" she demanded nervously, commanding her heartbeat to slow down. "What's wrong?"

Auggie was giving her that look—the one that told her he was somewhere between amused and concerned about her antics. "Nothing's wrong," he replied slowly, in case she couldn't understand. "I was asking you if you wanted to come to lunch with me. Four times. You didn't hear me, apparently.

Annie winced. "Sorry," she apologized, watching as Auggie walked over to her desk, 'unaware' of the stares he was receiving. The DPD was still an office, and when you shouted someone's name from across the room, you were bound to get some stares. Not that Auggie ever minded.

"There any reason you're not paying attention to me today?"

She narrowed her eyes. "Wow, is there any way you can ask that question _without_ sounding like a narcissist?" she asked, craning her head up to shoot him a glare.

Auggie pretended to mull it over. "Nope," he answered, grinning from ear to ear.

"Asshat," she muttered under her breath, and then turned her attention back to the paper still clasped in her hands. Sighing, she shook her head and stood up. "C'mon, let's get lunch."

Auggie didn't budge. "What's going on, Annie?" he said, sounding almost comically bored. "Tell Uncle Auggie."

Annie's eyebrows shot up. "Uncle Aug—okay, now you're just being intentionally creepy," she snapped, and was rewarded with another insufferable grin.

"And nothing's _wrong_," she continued, fingering the edges of the paper. "I just checked the mail before work today and I got this letter."

At her second sigh, he took the cardstock gently out of her hands, his expression morphing into one of confusion when his fingers brushed the top of the page. "What's with the raised lettering?"

"It's a wedding invitation," she explained, taking back the letter after a few seconds.

"Family?" Auggie quizzed. "Because I usually just bring a flask of whiskey and ignore everyone."

"No, I girl I went to high school with," she corrected, then cocked an eyebrow. "Though how antisocial and alcoholic of you."

"You'd understand if you met my family."

Annie smiled softly. "I think I'd like your family," she said, leaning against the edge of her desk. "At least that might be relatively normal. This is just… awkward."

Auggie didn't have to ask the question—his curious expression told her everything. "I'm an Army brat," she explained, even though he already knew that part. "So we moved around a lot, obviously. But the beginning of my junior year, we moved down to Fort Dix in New Jersey. And we stayed there until I graduated high school, so for once I had the opportunity to make friends for longer than a couple months. I actually had a best friend for the first time in my life, sad to admit at 17, but whatever."

"Anyway, I went to Georgetown, she went to a school in Jersey, but we still kept in contact—until she basically cut me out of her life when she started dating this guy sophomore year. And now, almost nine years later, she's inviting me to her wedding. It's just… weird."

Auggie was quiet for a while, and she took the opportunity to study the invitation some more. The script was delicate without being too flowery, simple and neat black ink against the cream cardstock. "Classic," her mother would say.

"You gonna go?"

Annie chewed on her lip. "Not really sure. I kinda want to say no because I have no idea if I'll know—or like—anyone there, but I'd be lying if I didn't say I was kinda curious."

"There an open bar?"

She chuckled and glanced up at him. "Probably," she admitted. "But unlike you, I'm not as comfortable drinking alone."

"I'll go with you."

Her jaw nearly hit the floor. Quickly composing herself, she shook her head and asked, "You want to come with me to my ex-best friend's wedding, where I will probably know no one, and probably be miserable for the whole night?"

Auggie smiled and explained, "I don't _want_ to go, but if you want me to, I'll go. I would rather get drunk at Allen's, but I'm sure it wouldn't be the worst night in my life. And besides, it's a known fact that it's impossible to be miserable when you spend the night with me."

As his initially earnest smile turned decidedly wolfish, she rolled her eyes and laughed. "How big am I going to owe you if I drag you along?"

"So long as you ply me with free booze for the whole night, how 'bout we call it even?"

Annie smiled and looped her arm through his. "Deal," she agreed. "You know, you are about the best friend a girl could ever have."

"That's what I keep telling you!"

$4$

Yup. Definitely wonky. And partially Art Imitating Life again, thought luckily I haven't had to deal with any uncomfortable wedding invitations in my life (yet).

And before anyone asks, yes, I have every intention of writing a scene with them at the wedding. I just need to get the right WotD. ;)


	40. Just Breathe

And so begins the lovely next few weeks of sleeping in until classes start again. Also begins yet another WotD where I have absolutely no idea where they came up with this word.

Shameless plug: I might have gotten bored over the weekend and made a _CA_ video on YouTube… check it out. ;) (I use the same name over there as I do here.)

I'm going to make sure this isn't too similar to **Artemis'**, because there are only so many ways I can take this.

$4$

**Melismatic: **(adj.) characterized by the singing of several notes to one syllable of text, for emotional impact, as in blues and other musical styles.

* * *

Another day finished, another mission completed by the skin of her teeth.

Annie reclined her head back, eyes shut as she rested her arm along the line of the couch, idly swirling the last dregs of Merlot in her wineglass. She inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly, counting backwards from ten before breathing out.

"What do you want to listen to?"

She smiled at the sound of Auggie's voice, the sound cutting through the silence in the best way possible. "Hmm, I really don't care," she mumbled, still not bothering to open up her eyes. "So long as it's not loud."

Auggie laughed, and the sound was somehow even better on her poor abused eardrums. "How's your headache doing?"

Tilting her head, she cracked her eyes open long enough to glance at what was left of her wine. "My headache's still raging," she admitted, keeping her mind away from the bomb that had gone off some hours ago in a little airstrip in Belize and the ringing still echoing in her ears. "But the Excedrin and wine has gone a long way to helping."

She stretched her legs out on his coffee table, crossing her legs at the ankles and wiggling her Ballerina Pink painted toenails. As the first few notes piped through Auggie's pristine speakers she smiled wider. "I should have guessed," she murmured, tipping her head back and downing the rest of the contents of her wine. Once she was finished, she set the glass on the coffee table away from her feet.

"This is a classic, and it just so happens to be one of my favorites," Auggie informed her, and she could hear the sound of his socked feet heading back towards her and the couch. She snickered at his response but found herself humming along to the saxophone anyway. Auggie flopped back on the couch, his arm draping across the couch right behind her shoulders. "You can't tell me you dislike it."

"Of course I don't dislike _Goodbye Pork Pie Hat_," she said, keeping her eyes closed as snuggled closer to the warmth coming off his arm. "No one can dislike _Goodbye Pork Pie Hat_. It's not possible."

He took the hint and wrapped his arm around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him. She hummed again, this time in appreciation, and smiled into his shoulder. "I do what I can," he muttered.

Annie grinned at her best friend's response. "You do it well," she agreed.


	41. Family

I was a little disappointed with the lack of response yesterday, but I did also post pretty late last night so it's not a big deal. :)

And somehow, the definition of this word makes less sense than the word itself.

Oh, and before I forget this is set early on season 1.

$4$

**Entelechy:** (n.) a realization or actuality as opposed to a potentiality.

* * *

Annie was sitting at the dining room table as Danielle and her family went through the motions of every other dinner—which usually included, but not limited to, excited shouting from Chloe and Katia, Danielle trying to set the food on the table, Michael scrambling to get food on everyone's plate, and inevitably at least one spill on Danielle's precious tablecloth.

But through all of it there was laughter, smiles, and lots and lots of jokes. Annie shook her head, like she did every time. This wasn't particularly new, but it filled her with a certain amount of joy every night—like this familial wackiness evened out the absolute uncertain insanity of her job.

She had only been working for the CIA for less than a month, and she was still trying to figure out how to cope with everything. The bruises weren't very fun to hide, but the job was more enjoyable then she thought it'd be, and her coworkers were way better than she would expect from a bunch of spies.

Like Auggie. For a blind guy, he was a flirt and a ladies' man, but so far he was the closest thing to a best friend she had found since college. She trusted him more than anyone else she had met so far, and that was saying something.

But it wasn't until chaos erupted Danielle started freaking out about orange soda stains on silk and everyone began rushing around for napkins and towels and Tide pens that Annie settled back in her chair and smiled a little. Auggie would like her family.

He already knew enough about them, what with the early will drama with becoming the kids' legal guardian and the Thursday night crazy dinners. Like with everything else, he took her ranting or voiced concerns in stride, always offering the best advice he could under the circumstances. She probably owed him like six lunches on that fact alone. And yet she still wanted to subject him to her family, because she knew instinctively that he would somehow enjoy listening to the shouting and the madness that was living with the Brooks. Plus, he _was_ her best friend, so it was probably only fair that she subject him to stuff he would complain about but secretly love.

But still, as her family scrambled to clean up a new mess, it was decided. At some point, Annie was dragging Auggie along to meet her family.

$4$

This is random and even shorter than yesterday, but I just wanted to write something quick and cute before I had to leave and run errands. :)

Hope you guys liked it!


	42. Packaged

Auggie found out about Doctor Scott. Yes, I'm also super-amused _CA_ referred to him as Doctor Scott, too. It rolls off the tongue well.

The whole conversation between Auggie and Danielle was great (because everyone knows "the Smithsonian" and "the war on terror" are synonymous), but I'm not so sure about this telling-Danielle-about-the-CIA arc. I feel like it's not going to end well or it's too soon or something. It seems like a bad idea, especially because once Danielle knows, she's going to want to know _everything_ (it's human nature).

Reference to _Residence_ (28).

$4$

**Hacienda: **(n.) a large estate, especially one used for farming or ranching.

* * *

Auggie fell back against the couch he knew was there, sighing with relief when the back of his head bounced against the smooth leather. He was practically panting. At the time, it had seemed perfectly natural to ask Annie to move in with him—she already had two drawers of her own _and_ half a dozen bottles of various origins that were apparently absolutely necessary to complete her morning and evening ablutions—but in retrospect, maybe he should've waited a little longer. Like, once August was over.

But it was too little too late on that thought, so he shifted, trying to get his shirt to unstick from his already sweaty skin without actually having to move his hands. "How many boxes did you bring again?"

"Ummm… fourteen," Annie called, and he could hear the hollow slaps of her flip-flops on the hardwood floor as she navigated around all the cardboard boxes they'd arranged as neatly as possible to hopefully stave off him knocking into anything.

He groaned dramatically, screwing his eyes shut—not like it made a difference, but it served his bad acting—and whined, "Why do you have so much crap, woman?"

She chuckled and lazily swiped the back of his head as she skirted the couch and plopped down next to him, leaning against him too close for comfort in this heat—just the way he liked it. "Hey, you're the one that told me to move in with you, asshat," she retorted, dropping her head against his shoulder and craning her head to look up at him upside down. "Though, honestly, I don't have the slightest clue where we're gonna put all my stuff. You've got this whole cool, modern bachelor pad thing going on and I don't think anything I own is going to work with it." She huffed, moving some of the hair by his ear. He smiled and stretched, lifting his arm and wrapping it around her chest so she could settle her back better against his side and shoulders.

"So long as I don't trip on anything, I could really care less about how everything fits in with the décor," he replied, resting the side of his head against the crown of hers and smiling as the curls she'd thrown in a haphazard bun tickled his skin.

"_I_ care," she told him, and he could hear the frown in her voice. He could always hear the expression in her voice, as weird as that sounded. "Everything in your apartment is so _cool_," she repeated, "And all black and white and everything I own is—"

"Really? I thought all of this was blue."

There was an awkward pause where he knew she was staring at him in confusion and then she snorted and jammed an elbow into his side. He grunted but turned it into a laugh. "Asshat," she repeated. "You know it's black and white, and you may not know this but none of my stuff matches monochrome."

"Is that a band?" Auggie asked, looking down in her direction.

"Ha ha," she said, reaching over and pinching his thigh through his basketball shorts. "You know what I mean."

He laughed some more and shook his head. With a shake of his head, he quelled his humor long enough to reply sincerely, "I do understand what you mean. And you have no reason to worry, Annie."

She didn't say anything, so she squeezed the shoulder his hand had been cupping, grateful she had chosen to wear a tank top in this weather so he had as much access to her smooth warm skin as possible. "It doesn't matter if everything matches or nothing matches," he informed her, speaking slowly and enunciating every word so she would understand what he was trying to drill home. "And if we get a bigass house or a little split-level, I'm still not going to care if anything in the house matches, so long as I'm living there with you."

She was silent, and as the seconds ticked by he had to fight the urge to fidget. He could feel a flush rising from his neck and spreading upwards, and it had nothing to do with the heat. Had he pushed too far? He didn't mean to speak so bluntly, but they _were _living together now—okay, only for the last hour—and he'd saw this happening since the first date. Earlier, really, if he was going to be completely honest with himself.

"Annie?" he finally asked, and silently congratulated himself for keeping the nervousness out of his voice.

She stirred, reaching her hand up and wrapping her slim fingers around his wrist. "Sorry," she said softly, rubbing the pad of her thumb back and forth across the inside of his wrist and raising goosebumps. "You kinda threw a lot at me there."

If possible, he flushed even further. "I didn't mean—"

"No, it's fine," she cut him off quickly, sitting up and twisting around so she could face him. "It's more than fine, really. I would be more than happy to share a house with you." She caught his jaw between her fingers and turned it so they were face to face, with only inches separating them. "I would love it, actually."

She kissed him then, which was good because if she hadn't he would've jumped her anyway. His chest tightened as warmth spread throughout his body, a common reaction when Annie was around—or even sometimes when she wasn't. Love, his mother informed him cheerfully a few months back.

Like usual, she wasn't wrong.

Auggie kissed her back earnestly, turning his body so he could rest his back against the arm of the couch and pull her flush against him. Before they could get any further, he wrenched himself from her hot mouth and growled, "I love you."

She laughed, albeit breathlessly, and replied, "I love you, too."

Living with her was going to be perfect, he could already tell.

$4$

This is super super late, but I _really_ liked where I went with this WotD, because I love writing lots of crazy fluff. And this definitely applies.


	43. Teaser

I can't read this WotD without thinking about my English major… XD

And tomorrow will probably posted really late, too. To make up for it, I think I'll write WotDs for Saturday and Sunday because I'll be gone Monday through Thursday and won't have any time to write. :)

$4$

**Aesopian: **(adj.) conveying meaning by hint, euphemism, innuendo, or the like.

* * *

"So how was your weekend?"

Annie finished pouring herself a cup of coffee, carefully setting it back in its holder without spilling any of the contents as Chloe and Katia raced around in fairy wings. "It was okay," she replied, leaning across the counter to pour a little sugar and some creamer into her mug. "I spent most of my time sleeping for as long as possible. Jetlag really took it out of me."

"I know," Danielle cooed, pulling open the Sub-Zero fridge and reappearing with two Hi-C juice boxes. "I knocked on your door yesterday morning and you didn't say anything so I guess you must still be sleeping. I'm so sorry we didn't get to spend more of the weekend together."

Annie plastered on a CIA smile and nodded, but her mind was racing elsewhere. When had Danielle knocked on her door? Oh, God, hopefully not until after 11…

"Yeah, I know," she muttered, spinning around with coffee clutched to her chest. "I really am sorry about all that. But today I should be able to get out of work early so would you be able to get out for a sisters' dinner? I know it's last minute, but can Michael take care of them?"

Danielle smiled and waved her lean arms. "Oh, please! Michael can stand to take care of the girls for a night. We can go out to dinner and maybe for drinks at that bar you like so much. Maybe we can find you a cute guy. Ooh! I could be your wing-woman!"

Stifling a snicker behind her coffee mug, Annie began to shake her head. Damn. She thought Danielle had finally gotten past this whole meddling-in-her-sister's-love-life thing. She did _not_ need to spend a night at Allen's while Danielle trolled for her coworkers.

"Or you could always bring that guy you've kept locked in the guesthouse all weekend. Whatever."

Annie choked on a mouthful of coffee, nose and throat burning as she blinked past tears and tried to swallow the rest of her suddenly burning drink. Danielle watched this all with a sort of perplexed fascination, like a cat watching a bird limp across the floor.

When Annie finally got her coughing down to a minimum and poured herself a glass of water from the tap, she sent her sister a wide-eyed stare. "What?" she asked weakly.

"You didn't _really_ think you could get something like that past me, did you?" Danielle replied, too innocent for her own good. "I'm not your big sister for nothing. If you leave now you can get coffee and split a bagel with Auggie before you hit morning traffic."

Annie gaped, her mouth opening and closing like a fish but no sounds came out. Before she could get her voice to work, Danielle smiled and winked. "By the way, congrats. He's a catch _and_ super cute."

* * *

Annie shut the door behind her, barely able to look Auggie in the eye as he pulled on his sports coat. "The CIA should've recruited my sister," she announced, still flabbergasted and clutching a bagel and two coffee mugs.

"Wh—"

She shut her eyes. "Don't ask," she said quickly. "Let's just—go, before we're late Joan glares at me again. Or Danielle decides to rub us in my face some more."

"This is going to be one of those funny stories, isn't it?"

"Shut up, Anderson."

$4$

Finished with ten minutes to spare!


	44. In the Dark

I did promise to get something up today, and I checked the WotD early this morning and I've been brainstorming since then. This seems to be the neatest way to make it work.

Spoilers for _All the Right Friends_ (2.04). Because it needed to be discussed.

$4$

**Overslaugh:** (v.) to pass over or disregard (a person) by giving a promotion, position, etc., to another instead.

* * *

For the building's size, finding Auggie wasn't all that difficult.

She supposed that had a lot to do with knowing him so well. No matter his mood, there were only a certain number of places that Auggie would go. It only took her a few seconds to locate him sitting in his office with the lights off. He wasn't wearing his headphones, he wasn't using the computer, he wasn't even playing with that Gripmaster. Just sitting there, head slightly tilted to the right with an intense expression on his face as he stared into nothingness.

The sliding glass door was already partially open, so for a moment she only leaned against the doorway, watching him a little closer. "Brooding doesn't really work on you," she observed quietly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Her voice was enough to bring him out of that long-distanced stare, but he didn't seem surprised by her presence. "I'm not brooding," he replied, sounding gruff around the edges. "I'm contemplating."

Annie smiled and said, "Whatever you want to call it, it's not doing anything good for your complexion."

Instead of smiling at her bad joke like she was hoping, his frown only worsened. "I'm assuming your arrival means you saw it and you're checking up on me."

Her only reaction to his hostile tone and words was a slightly raised eyebrow. "Well, it was kind of hard to miss," she answered slowly, stepping into the office. "So I guess I am checking up on you."

His jaw flexed a few times before he answered, "Then you should be happy to know I'm fine."

Annie continued to smile, taking her usual spot at his desk by his side. She was a little closer than usual, her thigh inches from his arm, and she could feel the tension radiating off him in waves. She didn't say anything else, simply chose to watch him carefully, which only caused him to shift uncomfortably and frown some more. "Shouldn't you be on a date with Doctor Scott right now?"

That actually succeeded in getting under her skin. "No, we're not," she replied brittlely. "In case you were wondering, jealousy doesn't look too good on you, either."

Auggie made that face—eyebrows knitted, mouth twisted—the one that said he was going to say something cutting and rude that would make her want to bash his metal trash can over his head, but as fast as it was there, it was gone. He flexed his jaw again, and by the time the muscle relaxed his face was a perfect mask of detachment. "Sorry," he said quietly. "That was out of line."

"Yeah, it was," Annie replied bluntly, not giving him an inch. "But apologizing isn't going to make this go away. Davidson on the sixth floor got promoted to OCA and you're sulking in your office in the dark."

"I'm not sulking," he argued, with a face that could only be described as a sulk.

"You're not convincing anyone with that," she said drolly, knocking her knee against his arm. "Do you regret not going through with it?"

"No," Auggie answered immediately, no hesitation or doubt. "I don't want the OCA job. I never wanted the OCA job."

Annie cocked her head to the side, processing the new information. "Then why did you take it?"

"Because," he replied, sounding petulant as he rubbed the bridge of his nose tiredly.

"Because?" she repeated, drawing out the word to hopefully draw out whatever was rattling around in that pretty little head of his.

Auggie sighed, the muscles in his body tense again for some reason. "_Because_, even as the head of Tech Ops, my pull in the CIA only extends so far and getting a helicopter into Argentina does _not_ fall under that umbrella—"

"Wait, what?" Annie interrupted, straightening. "Helicopter? Did you—you leveraged your offer to get me out of Argentina?"

He was silent, but this time for a different reason. But she knew him well enough—_more_ than well enough—to take his silence as confirmation. She sighed. "Oh, Auggie…"

Auggie shot out of his chair, and while she jumped a little she didn't remove the possibly inappropriate lack of space between the two of them. "It's really not a big deal," he hastened to assure her, and the sudden nervous energy zinging through his body made her smile a little. "I saw an opportunity and I took it. It's my job—"

Annie didn't listen to what else he had to say. It only took the slightest amount of maneuvering to cup his jaw with both hands and close the gap between them, gently kissing his cheek. Lingering, she rested her forehead against the side of his, and whispered, "Thank you."

Under her fingertips, she could feel him swallow and nod once. She smiled against his skin and added, "At this point I think I owe you a week's worth of sandwiches."


	45. Aftermath

I'm going to try to complete this as quickly as possible, because the idea came to me late last night, like most of random plots. Luckily for me, this WotD actually fits pretty well.

Post _Alarm _(30).

$4$

**Moxie: **(n.) vigor; verve; pep; courage and aggressiveness; skill; know-how.

* * *

Annie was really warm, but she couldn't move anything more than her right arm.

It was a peculiar realization, but not one vital enough to require her to wake up from her comfy bed. And then her bed moved.

_That_ was enough to require waking her up.

It wasn't so much that her bed moved, per se, it was more like the comforter and sheets on top of her shifted. And then her comforter—heavier than she last remembered it—wrapped itself tighter around her waist. Which, in retrospect, didn't seem like things her comforter could do.

Cracking her dark eyes open, she stared incomprehensibly at the ceiling for a while. That wasn't her ceiling. Or, upon closer inspection, her comforter. Or for that matter, her bare shoulder.

Alarm welled up in her chest, but as quick as it came it was gone, and replaced with the memories of last night. Really, if she did the math, probably less last night and more like a few hours ago. She had been in her own bed, but a frantic call from Auggie during the middle of the night had resulted in an impromptu trip to his apartment.

It had taken a while to calm him down. They stayed curled on the floor, and even as the thunder subsided he never let her go for a minute, loosening his grip only long enough to let her slip out of her drenched coat. She spent the whole time talking to him in hushed, soothing tones, but after an hour she knew there was no way he was going to let her leave and no way they would be able to survive tomorrow without some sleep.

It only took a little effort to get him to stand up, and by that point the terror he had been feeling had melted to sheer exhaustion, so convincing him it was time for sleep wasn't that difficult. In her haste to get to Auggie as fast as possible, she had just thrown on a raincoat and boots over her pajamas, so she didn't need to worry about changing or borrowing his sweats. That was a good, because it seemed the one thing Auggie couldn't manage was to be away from her for longer than a few seconds. It was like he thought if he let go of her, she might disappear.

It was empowering to know he relied on her so much at a time like this, so she didn't say anything when he leaned heavier into her side than usual.

The bed had been a bit of an issue, because as concerned as she was for him, seeing the sheets rumpled at the foot of his bed only made her think of that brunette he mentioned taking home with him. She was willing to take a lot as his best friend—her standing there in his bedroom well past 3 AM more than proved that—but sleeping in those sheets was not happening.

Locating a new set of sheets was easy—he kept them neatly stacked in a shelf in his linen closet, right above the towels, probably for convenience as well as order. Luckily, he returned the favor and didn't question her for a second as she stripped his bed and set out the fresh new sheets. From there, it had been easy to guide Auggie into bed. She hadn't asked, but all the same she had been planning on sharing the space with him in case the storm picked up again. Before she could wander to the other side of the bed, his grip around her elbow tightened unexpectedly and he pulled her down toward him.

She went with the motion, sliding into bed and letting him arrange her comfortably to his side. She had an odd, flitting thought that he was using her like his own personal security blanket, and she smiled involuntarily.

So she was in Auggie's apartment, in Auggie's bed. That was an interesting turn to her Sunday night.

_Sunday night_. Shit.

Annie cracked her eyes open wider, finally noticing that the room was still surprisingly dim. There was no sound of rain against the windows, which meant the storm was over. What time was it?

She looked over, following the line of Auggie's shoulder and neck to that mess of dark hair. His face was turned toward her, and his eyes were already open. She idly wondered if he had been awake this entire time.

Clearing her throat slightly, she smiled and whispered, "Hey."

"Hey," he said, equally quiet. "Listen, about—"

"It's no problem," she assured him.

"No one else knows," he said.

"No one else will," she promised, using what limited range of motion she had with him half on her body to reach up and squeeze his wrist. "I promise. That's why we're friends."

Auggie smiled.

$4$

I may add to this later in the day if I have time...


	46. What is Ouch?

I agreed to do a WotD for both Saturday and Sunday, but little did I know today's word would be so completely out there and bizarre…

$4$

**Nervure: **(n.) a vein, as of a leaf or the wing of an insect.

* * *

Mornings were usually pretty messy for Annie. When she was home, it took her body a while to get alert, longer if she didn't have time to drink her first coffee of the morning. It helped when she stretched first thing, loosening up her muscles and cracking various joints a few times. So usually while she was waiting for the coffee pot to fill, she stretched, borrowing from some yoga positions her sister taught her, along with techniques from the Farm.

"Shit."

Midway to touching her toes, Annie paused. Auggie's voice had travelled clearly through to the kitchen. Most mornings, he kept the bathroom door propped open. It was easier, because they could talk to each other as they got ready or pop in and out, which was very helpful when they were running late in the morning—which happened a little too frequently.

Standing up straight, Annie called, "Hey, everything alright in there?"

"Shit. Yeah, I'm okay. I think."

The pot wasn't even close to a quarter-way full, so she abandoned her stretching to investigate. Poking her head into the bathroom, she couldn't stifle a giggle at Auggie. "This your definition of okay?" she asked.

Auggie grumbled a couple choice obscenities under his breath that only made her chuckle more. She walked into the bathroom, joining him at the bathroom sink as he attempted to put pressure on the side of his neck. She inched closer, pushing his hand aside to get a good look at the damage. Once she did, her smile turned into a frown and she let out a low hiss between her teeth. "Jeez, Aug, what did you do?"

"I was getting out of the shower, knocked over you razor—I managed to cut myself," he muttered through gritted teeth, strong fingers wrapping around her smaller ones. His skin was still wet from the shower, towel wrapped loosely around his hips. They were well past the point of modesty, so she had no problem whatsoever invading his space. He was pissed, she could tell—he was always angry on some level whenever he hurt himself or had an accident. She understood it, in a weird way, felt that level of frustration for him.

"Sorry, hon," she mumbled, examining the cut. It wasn't a very deep or big wound, barely the length of her pinkie nail, but he must've nicked a vein, probably one of the smaller ones but it was making the cut bleed more and faster than usual. Wiping most of the blood away with her finger, she licked her thumb and pressed it over the wound, then used her free hand to rummage through the medicine cabinet behind the mirror for a Band-Aid.

Auggie held her wrist to his chest, trying to decide if he was going to pull her hand away or not. "Anne, I really don't think pressing your thumb is going to stop the—"

"I licked it first," she explained, her fingers struggling a little to rip open the Band-Aid and pull off those little white tabs that covered the adhesive.

"Oh, that solves the problem," he replied dryly.

She smiled at his sarcasm, finally extricating the Band-Aid and smoothing it over his cut. "It's something my mom taught me when I first started shaving my legs. If you get a nick, you lick your thumb and press it to the cut and it'll stop or at least slow the bleeding. Something about the saliva. Chapstick does the trick, too."

Auggie still wanted to be pissed with himself, but he couldn't keep back the grin at her response. "Chapstick and saliva," he said. "You're just full of random information this morning."

"I should go on _Jeopardy_," Annie joked, keeping her hands on his collarbone. "You know, if Joan didn't kill me for going on national television and ruining my ability to be a proper NOC."

She disentangled herself from him as she added, "Now, c'mon, I believe you've wasted enough time having me take care of you. We're gonna be late."

"What? You're not going to kiss it and make it better?"

She glared at him—it didn't matter how long they were together, he was always going to be incorrigible—but smirked anyway, because that was why she loved him. So she obliged him, leaning over and kissing the Band-Aid. She started to pull away, but got no further than a few inches when his fingers tangled in her hair and tilted the back of her head up to meet his mouth.

Annie grinned into the kiss as he wasted no time deepening it, stealing her breath as he licked the sensitive roof of her mouth. She moaned, but pushed the heel of her palm into his collarbone, breaking the kiss before it could go any further.

"I hate to break it to you, but we have to go to that thing called work soon," she reminded him, breathing heavily.

Auggie's grinned diabolically, but his brething was just as ragged as hers. "You're no fun."

"Oh, I'm plenty of fun," she replied, rubbing her calf along the back of his and making him inhale sharply, "But after work hours are over."

And with that, she slipped away before he could stop her again, her hips swaying with a bit of feminine pride as she heard his exaggerated groan. Yeah, she knew how to work Auggie Anderson, and she was damn well proud of it.

$4$

For a second, I seriously considered taking this down a different road, but if I did this would've gone into very M-rated territory… ;)

(And anyone whose parents are nerdy enough to watch _Jeopardy_ enough, like mine, will understand the significance of today's title.)


	47. Prove It

I'm on vacation at the moment, which meant I had no plans whatsoever to write a WotD for the next 3 days, but then I saw today's word and _knew_ I couldn't ignore it. This is, after all, the most commonly requested prequel, out of all of my WotDs. :)

Also, to answer a couple people's questions, my mom taught me the saliva-lick trick and it's always worked for me, and Chapstick was something I learned from a friend and that works, too. So if you ever get a nick/cut… now you know!

Prequel to _Belligerent _(18).

$4$

**Chaptalize: **(v.) to increase the alcohol in a wine by adding sugar.

* * *

When Bill had called him to say that he and a couple other buddies were going to be in the area, Auggie had immediately jumped at the opportunity. It had been a depressingly long time since he'd last gone out, and that was provided one counted the handful of nights in the last month he'd gone for quick drinks with Annie. And personally, he didn't count those nights.

After her breakup with Doctor Scott, going out for drinks at Allen's had become… tense. She had kept that information from him, and even since then it had been sort of impossible not to see her, however metaphorically, in a different light. He always noticed when other men hit on her—otherwise, how would he be able to tell how unfairly gorgeous she was?—but now, instead of just noticing the cheesy and frequently annoying pick-up lines and come-ons, it was getting under his skin in the worst way possible. By the end of the night, the muscles in his jaw ached from grinding his teeth so tight and it felt like his blood pressure had doubled. Luckily, he was positive she had no idea about his recent mindset, the only upside.

Drinking with Annie was turning into the most stressful part of his week.

And it had been over a year since he'd last hung out with his old Army buddies, and he was in a desperate need to get good and drunk without wanting to beat another man senseless.

So he drank a little more than he was comfortable. In his defense, it had been a really rough week, and these were the guys trained with at Fort Bragg. None of them were drinking him under the table.

Even better, they didn't bother him about his blindness or rag on him about his job at the 'Smithsonian.' All five of them had spent some doing some black op or the other in a country no one was willing to acknowledge, and all of them understood the dangers.

"Anderson, what the hell is your secret?"

Auggie had been smiling gratefully in the direction of their cute waitress, who so far had been more than happy to ply the group of soldiers (and their one sharply dressed friend) with pitchers of beer. "What secret?" he asked intelligently.

"How the fuck do you manage to be so charming to the hottest women without actually knowing what they look like?" Bill asked, after the waitress was well out of earshot.

"I'm insulted," he replied, his smile quickly turning cocky. "I'm _always_ charming to women."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, Casanova," Bill said dismissively, and he could picture the man waving away the comment with his big arms. "We both know it's bullshit to pretend you don't know that she was a 10, easy."

"I've explained to you numerous times, Wild Bill," Auggie said patronizingly, picking up the old nickname the guys had used back during training because it never failed to piss him off. "I don't need to _see_ the pretty women, I just need to _hear_ how you talk to them."

The rest of the night continued much like this, lots of drinking and insults and Bill threatening to deck Chris for calling him "fuckin' Wild Bill _one more time!_" Basically, like any and every time they all got together for drinks.

What was different was that somehow, the conversation—which had been getting significantly louder and rowdier as the night wore on—turned to _Annie_, of all topics. And not just any Annie, _his_ Annie. Yeah. _Annie Walker_.

Why the hell were they talking about Annie Walker?

Oh, right. "I do not believe that she is as hot as you're making her out to be, Anderson," Bill argued, and Auggie could just barely hear the _clink_ as his mug hit the metal table over the din of their friends.

"I beg your pardon, sir, but Annie is _totally_ hot," he insisted, his mouth going on autopilot as his brain swam to catch up. What the hell was he saying? He didn't talk about her like that. "_And_ she's extremely smart, which is a refreshing change."

"I think you're full of it."

"I think _you're_ full of it," Auggie argued wittily, trying and failing to not sway a little in his chair. "In _fact_, I'm going to call her to prove you wrong."

Bill chuckled, even though there wasn't anything remotely funny about the situation. What? He was her best friend. He had every right to call her at… whatever time of night it was. "Oh really? You're gonna drunk dial her? Let's see how this works."

His fingers felt sluggish as he pulled out his cellphone and struggled to remember the number he'd assigned her on speed dial—number 3, of course, after work and mom—but he got there, in his own due time, and by the time he managed to get the phone up to his ear Annie had already answered the call. "Auggie? Hey, I'm kinda busy right—"

"Annie!" he boomed excitedly into the cell phone, ignoring Bill's guffaws next to him. "How are you doing?"

"I'm okay…" she sounded funny, like confused or something. Why was she so confused? She was supposed to be happy! "I'm kinda at one of my sister's dinners right now."

"Perfect!" he replied, leaning back and nearly toppling over in his seat if not for Bill's better reflexes. "I'm out with the guys, as I was telling you earlier, and they don't seem to believe me when I tell them that you're hot."

There was a long silence, to the point where Auggie nearly forgot he was on the phone with anyone, and then Annie's voice cut through in pure CIA business mode. "Auggie, are you drunk?"

"No," he replied immediately, too quick to be believable.

Bill poked his side as he interjected, "Hey, maybe while you're at it you should ask her for a ride home."

"Splendid idea, Wild Bill!" Auggie said, then turned his attention back to the cell phone. "Annie, Wild Bill suggested you give me a ride home. I think he's right. And _then_, he can see how hot you are!"

"Auggie, _what?_ Who the hell is Wild Bill? How much have you been drinking?"

"Only a little," he replied convincingly. Or at least, it sounded convincing in his head. "Or a lot. Sorta depends on your definition of the term. _But_ the important part is that I need them to understand that you're hot."

"What—you—Auggie, stop saying I'm hot."

Next to him, Bill was laughing so hard he was doubled over, half on Auggie's chair. For the record, Auggie was funny, but not _that_ funny. Geez, the guy really didn't know how to hold his alcohol. "Why? You're hot. It's like a fact."

"Jesus, you are _so_ drunk right now. Look, where are you?"

"Not until they understand that you're hot."

"_Stop telling your Army buddies I'm hot!_"

$4$

Technically it's no longer Monday, but whatever, I was determined to finish this before I went to sleep. It is my vacation, after all.

This is a total hot mess of nonsense, but it was sooo much fun to write. XD Like before, I may have borrowed from a few ridiculous incidents involving nonsensical conversations brought on by alcohol. Most of them usually wind up a lot like this.

And I ended with a line from _Belligerent_, because that paragraph/one-sided conversation was my favorite from the whole WotD.


	48. Sandwiches

I did get to see the season finale of _CA!_ I missed like the first ten minutes (which caused a slight freakout on my part) but I was able to watch the beginning online yesterday. There was no way I was missing that cute sparring session with Auggie and Annie. And if I mention that, I have to mention the inordinately long hug.

And I'm pissed at Jai if he's about to do what I think he's going to do (i.e., anything that involves Liza). They got me to start liking him, and now we're running that into the ground. He really doesn't have any scruples.

It was a good way to wrap up the season, and I'm even more excited that it's coming back in the fall, not the winter like I assumed. Thank God I won't have to wait for another year again.

And this is seriously the word of the day. I know a bunch of you have already written spectacular things on this topic, but I can't resist. It's second nature for me to write something in reaction to an episode. XD But I will put effort into making this not like anyone else's fics.

Spoilers for _World Leader Pretend_ (2.10).

$4$

**Billet:** (v.) to provide or obtain lodging.

* * *

After everything that happened, her sister offered to let her stay an extra few weeks in the guesthouse to make up for overreacting and almost throwing her baby sister out on the street. As much as Annie appreciated the effort, the thought of unpacking two-thirds of her wardrobe only to have to repack it all over again less than a month from now was completely unappetizing. She was already exhausted from the last 48 hours—work, sparring with Auggie, the dinner, the radiation poisoning, no sleep in the hospital bed, breaking up with Scott, tracking down and catching Shen's killer—there was no way she was searching through all those boxes for pajamas and sheets.

It probably wasn't right or fair, especially given how many times she'd already taken advantage of him, in the last few months particularly, but when she needed a place to stay the night her only real option was Auggie. Because he was—and by this point there was no getting around it—her savior, after the game she asked to crash at his apartment for at least that night and he agreed. His complete lack of hesitation made her want to kiss him senseless—not really an appropriate reaction, so she opted for hugging him again and promising to eventually pay him back for the 600-odd favors she owed him.

So she stashed the Patrón he bought her—fat lot of good it did, unfortunately—in her overnight bag, along with something else she figured he'd appreciate, and headed over to his apartment. There was still plenty more to pack and she would go back to the guesthouse eventually until she could find an apartment, but staying over at Auggie's was going to be a welcome vacation from the real world.

Annie thumped on the door loudly, but when she didn't hear any sounds after a few minutes, she gave the door an experimental tug and it gave away with only the slightest resistance. She shouldered the door open wide enough for her to slide through and called out, "Hey Aug! I'm here!"

No response, but it only took a cursory look to spot him in the kitchen, his body blocking whatever he was cooking. The way his dark head bopped to an imaginary beat and the thin white wires that ran from his ears and disappeared past his shoulders told her why he didn't hear her knock or her call.

She smiled to herself and dropped her overnight bag and goodies by the door, and her smile only grew when her eyes settled on his couch. He already had a set of dark grey sheets folded at one end of the couch, along with a pillow and two extra blankets propped up on top. The effort touched her, and proved she really didn't deserve him as a best friend.

Annie wandered into the kitchen, eyeing her damn near perfect best friend up close. He, like her, had changed once more since the baseball game, opting for a tee and sweats that closely mirrored her own comfy clothes. Whatever was cooking in that pot smelled absolutely delicious.

Not bothering to wait any longer, she leaned over and quickly yanked the wire from his ear like a weed. He nearly jumped out of his skin, but she managed to stifle a laugh. It was probably rude to laugh at the guy willing to house you for the night. "Watcha cookin'?"

Auggie composed himself and shook his head. "After that entrance, I expect a 'good lookin,'" he replied, turning his attention back to whatever he was cooking.

Her eyebrows furrowed but she caught on a few seconds later. "Normally I would call you on your mondo-sized ego, but since you're nice enough to let me crash on your couch for the night, I will appease your wish this once," she replied, inhaling deeply. "Whatcha cookin', good lookin'?"

He grinned proudly. "Much better," he replied. "And technically I'm reheating, not cooking. I ordered some Manhattan clam chowder from down the street yesterday and I had a bunch left over. I figured this would be a great substitute for dinner if you want."

"Ooh, definitely," Annie said, inching closer to him to peer in the pot. "Looks delicious."

"I'll take your word for it."

She chuckled, but stopped when she remembered. "Crap," she muttered, doubling back to her stuff. "How much soup do you have? Not a lot, right?"

"Well, I don't know. Enough, I think. Probably for the two of us. Why?"

Annie carefully pulled out the hefty, Saran-wrapped package and half-jogged back to him. "Because," she replied evasively, thrusting the plate out in front of him until it bumped against his chest. "Here."

He took the plastic package gingerly, his expression only growing more puzzled by the second. "Yeah, I think you're gonna have to explain this one a little more than 'here.'"

"I got you a sandwich," Annie replied proudly. "Well, really, I got you two. Because you're letting me crash, and also for the phone and the GPS tracker and—well, really for everything. I'll get you sandwich every week if it'll even come close to making up for how many times you've saved me."

His whole demeanor softened and he gently set her platter of sandwiches on the table, caught her arm and dragged her into a tight hug. She immediately reciprocated, because hugging Auggie was becoming one of her favorite and most comforting things in her life, though she admittedly didn't know why he was hugging her. "You never need to pay me back, alright," he mumbled into her hair, tightening his grip on her shoulders just a bit. "I'm happy to do it."

She nodded, unable to more with her voice caught in her throat. They hugged for a few seconds longer, and after one last inhale of his cologne, they pulled apart. "Now let's check out those sandwiches and see if they're up to Anderson quality."

"Oh, like you're going to turn down free food even if they're not," she shot back with a scoff.

$4$

We're no longer in Thursday, but I wanted to finish this before I went to bed because I procrastinated all day. I think it's cute, and sort of different enough that I don't think it overlaps with what anyone else wrote, plus I made sure to cover some questions that I hope they answer in a few months.

(And Peter Gallagher some _major _kicked ass. What. The. Hell. Was. That. O.o)


	49. Ball Dropper

Like this past week, I'm going to try to write a WotD for the weekend because I'll be gone during the week. Even more importantly, I'm about to break the 50-marker milestone for _Kaleidoscope Hearts. _Which is nothing short of amazing for me.

And in case you've been under a rock, check out **Artemis'** _Those Little Moments_, because she just broke 100 WotDs (which is absolutely mind-boggling to my paltry 50) and uploaded a list of them in order. And I was just nerdy enough to spend the last two days going through and rereading them all in order, because it makes them that much funner (yeah, I said it) to read. ;)

Set sometime after _Packaged_ (42), and by extent _Residence_ (28). As you can tell, I really like writing this arc.

$4$

**Mundify: **(v.) to purge or purify.

* * *

In a couple years, Annie liked to think she had almost all of Auggie Anderson's quirks and facets down pat. Especially now that they had spent nearly a year dating with the last few months living together, she knew him better than she knew herself. She knew all his buttons and when to push them. She knew how to get him to calm down when he was all riled up from work. She knew to play _Dark Knight_ when he was sick, and keep the phone away from him when he was drunk. She had tons of fights with him in the past, and made up with him just as many times.

But nothing prepared her for finding Auggie crawling around on his hands and knees, attempting to scrub the floor clean.

Annie narrowed her eyes. "…Aug, honey… what are you doing?"

"Cleaning," he replied shortly, twisting around to dunk the rag he was holding in a plastic bucket filled with soapy water. She didn't even _know_ he owned a bucket.

Annie slowly set her purse on the table, careful to not step or slip on any of the still wet patches of hardwood. "I see that," she replied, slipping out of her shoes. No way was she breaking an ankle or a stiletto. "Is there any particular reason as to why, or have you just been bitten by the spring cleaning bug?"

He grunted, and continued scrubbing to the point she was afraid he'd wear a hole through the floorboards.

"Auggie?" she asked again, gingerly walking around the damp hardwood floor. She had to give him credit, the floor was absolutely pristine. This was a level of OCD up until now never reached by her boyfriend.

Auggie bent over to soak his rag once more. She didn't know what brought this on, but it was giving her a spectacular view of his ass. "We have a problem," he growled, clenching his teeth. She guessed now wouldn't be a good time to joke about how he missed a spot.

Annie tilted her head. "Beyond you turning into a candidate for that _Obsessed_ TV show?"

"Worse," he said, finally dropping the rag on the ground and sitting back on his heels.

Annie raised a thin eyebrow, reaching him in the middle of the floor and resting a hand on his shoulder. This better not be a really weird prank he was playing on her, like the time a few weekends ago in the bathroom.

"My parents called," he announced, crestfallen. "They're coming to visit."

$4$

Oh, this wound up so crazy, but I'm battling a migraine so I'm happy I finished anything at all, really. If I ever get a good word, I might try to do a sequel to this, and add it the ever-growing list of scenes I want to write.

And before I forget, can I just say that I _love_ that nearly every one of you that reviewed for yesterday's WotD had something to say about how awesome badass Peter Gallagher was? It was nothing short of hilarious for me to read. I adore every review, but stuff like that always makes my day even better. XD


	50. Pure

I officially have written 50 WotDs! I can't believe I've actually had the attention span to keep writing these for so long, but I must admit this was a fun experiment.

Now that 50 are done, I'm not planning on quitting on you guys. I'm going to keep writing until I have to go back to classes, and hopefully I'll still be able to add on to this even after. These are a pretty fun distraction, I must admit. The only major change I'm making is that from here on this fic will be marked as Complete. It really isn't, but because I don't really _ever_ see _KH_ as completing when I can always write another WotD but it works better in my messy brain to just to slap the complete over it and call it a day. XD

(Also, just me, but didn't I just get like the exact same word yesterday?)

$4$

**Holus-bolus: **(adv.) to cleanse.

* * *

Annie had killed a man today. Unfortunately, for the CIA this happened on a more than regular basis. But it didn't happen on any sort of basis for Annie. While she had a knack for getting into any and every kind of trouble on the planet, which often resulted in fights and violence, she always stopped just short of permanent damage.

It was bleeding heart logic, and something that he knew annoyed Joan on some level, and maybe even him too, but they couldn't actually stay mad. She worked for the CIA, but somehow she still managed to stay untouched, pure, a little bit better than their coworkers.

He needed to stop thinking of her like that, putting her on a pedestal because she was better than everyone else… better than him. It wasn't healthy behavior.

After she had reported to Joan, she disappeared. He knew because he put Stu on strict orders to keep an eye on her the second she walked into the building. Auggie knew Stu wouldn't fail him, but he also believed Annie was more than capable of disappearing if she really wanted. So after Stu informed him that she was suddenly gone, he knew to put his not inconsiderable intelligence to good use.

Which is why it only took him a few seconds to get up and wander into the women's bathroom. Mercifully, no one was in there, at least no one that commented on the DPD's charming and blind techie walking into the wrong bathroom. He did hear the sound of water running, and soft snuffles. But because the originator of those sounds was the very women he was looking for, he wasn't too concerned.

"I don't think I need my vision back to know your hands are already clean and then some," he commented dryly. But she didn't appreciate his very impressive sense of humor, because there were just some more sniffles and the plastic-on-plastic sound of her pumping the soap dispenser.

"I just—I want—" she inhaled shakily, and there was more furious scrubbing. "Leave me alone."

It was hard to do much of anything when she spoke to him in that forlorn little girl's voice, but leaving was sure as hell off the table. "Stop washing your hands, Annie," he said softly, sidling up close to her by the sink.

Every time she breathed in, her whole body shuddered with the effort, and he wanted to pull her to his chest and hug her until she started breathing normally again. But he knew to tread carefully, at least until he got her to turn off the faucet. "I-I can't," she whimpered. "I-I—"

"I know," Auggie replied, running his fingers along the sink's edge until he came into contact with one of her wrists. One gentle touch and she broke, dissolving into tears. She turned enough to bury her face into his shoulder, and he twisted quickly, letting go of her wrist to wrap around her lean waist. With his free hand, he found and shut off the faucet.

She clutched closer to him, and he could feel his button-down and sweater wet, but he didn't mind. "I'm sorry I always bother you," she said between gasps. His thumb brushed back and forth over the dip in her waist, trying to do his best to provide comfort.

"You aren't," he promised her. Truthfully, she never bothered him. He appreciated it every time she came to him and no one else. He liked being relied on, or maybe he just liked her relying on him. Maybe it had something to do with that pedestal, maybe it had something to do with that warped sense of chivalry that made him want to protect and save her. She was a grown woman and a talented agent, but there was something about her that brought that side out in him. He wasn't sure if he loved her or resented her for it.

"Thank you," she replied, her sobs stemming to a trickle. She burrowed her head closer to his neck, and he battled the desire to never let her go that was becoming too familiar to him. "Can we get drinks now?"

Auggie smiled into her hairline. "For you? Absolutely."

$4$

Angst. Loves to show up when I least expect it. I toyed with writing something like this for yesterday's word, but instead we got that crack-filled midget drabble so many of you loved. Since this is like the exact same word, I figured I might as well go with the idea. I was afraid this would be too similar to _Hope_ (24), but I think I worked it out so they're different enough.

What did you think? Too depressing? Too similar? Not enough fun for the big 50?


	51. The Question

Yay! On to 51!

Takes place right after _Burn, Baby, Burn_ (16). It was fun to write and deserved a wrap-up of sorts.

$4$

**Burke:** (v.) to suppress or get rid of by some indirect maneuver.

* * *

Saying it was no big deal, "between friends," was one thing.

Actually acting like that was something else entirely.

They still had to work together of course, and Joan had a new assignment for Annie right as they walked through the doors. Auggie was her go-to handler, so finding a reason to avoid him was out of the question. Even if she could avoid him, she wouldn't, because it was immature and humiliating. She wasn't throwing away their friendship just because they might've sort of kind of accidentally made out.

Therapy was starting to sound better and better by the second.

Still, she felt the need to clear the air just one time before she had to leave for her latest assignment—Latvia, God forbid she get to go to Paris again—surreptitiously checking to make sure all his techies were out of the room. She was more than willing to talk to him about it, but there was no way she was saying anything if Greg or Barber were in the room with them.

"Hey," she called softly, smiling to herself when she realized the room was empty.

Auggie jumped visibly when he heard her, and she suppressed a laugh. "Hey," he said, recovering quickly, leaning back in his chair with a cocky smile. She knew him too well to take the smirk at face value. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, almost," she replied, swinging her hips with a little more force than necessary—she was in that kind of mood. "I just figured we should probably talk before I left."

A corner of Auggie's mouth lifted higher, but as she settled by his side against his desk—her spot—she saw the undeniable nervousness flitting back and forth in his dark eyes. That she made him nervous actually made her feel a little better. "You mean, are we going to be super-awkward around each other now?" he quizzed, stretching out further. The maneuver didn't do much to detract from the sudden tenseness in his shoulders.

"Yeah, something like that," Annie answered, laughing a little. Even nervous, he still read her better than most people. "And I didn't want to leave for a different country and have my handler be super-awkward with me just because we…" She struggled for the word—not because it was wrong, but because once she said it, it became _real_.

"Kissed," Auggie supplied for her, surprising her with his bluntness.

Annie smiled, shrugged. "Yeah…" she agreed, drawing out the word longer than necessary.

"Hey, you said it yourself. It's between friends. We don't have to ruin anything just because the kiss was…" he trailed off, searching for the right word. "Nice." The tendons in his neck strained, and she fantasized about tracing those lines with her tongue—_bad thoughts, bad bad thoughts_.

"Yeah," she replied tightly, inhaling and straightening her back. "Let's go with that."

"So we're good?" Auggie asked needlessly, but she saw the worry in his expression that made her soften.

"Never better," she assured him, standing up and giving him her usual hip-check as a goodbye. She didn't get very far, because before she could even reach the door frame he called her name.

"That said, if after you're done with the mission, and you would want to go out for dinner, I would be more than happy to accompany you."

Annie regarded him carefully, not missing the way the room seemed to crackle with tension and anticipation as he waited for her answer. Luckily, she didn't think his perfect ears could hear the way her heart was fluttering a mile a minute, so she was able to ask calmly, "Would that be in the date capacity?"

Another flash of anxiety, smoothly replaced with another confident half-smile. "Possibly," he drawled, and she resisted rolling her eyes at his cocky defense mechanism. She shouldn't have found it as cute as she did.

Trying her best to keep the smile out of her voice, she answered, "Hmm. They maybe I would."

All cockiness was gone from him in an instant as he flashed her an exuberant, ear to ear grin. "Looking forward to it, Walker."

She couldn't agree more.

$4$

Yet again, unbelievably late, but this is what happens when I get distracted with two back-to-back episodes of _Leverage_. I have priorities, but Hardison kissing Parker's cheek just so happens to run those priorities into the ground (ditto Annie kissing Auggie's cheek). :D

And yes, I wrote him asking her out, because I don't think I've ever written out a scene like this before. This seemed as good a situation as any—after all, they had just kissed in the previous scene. I liked wrapping _Burn, Baby, Burn_ up and giving it a more complete ending.


	52. Sandman

Sorry, I know it's been like a week since I last updated _KH_. What can I say, I've been lazy. XD But when I saw today's WotD, I knew this was something I couldn't pass up if I tried.

Post _Aftermath_ (45). I said I might add on to it, but it seems easier to just turn this into a new WotD. And yes, this is another one of those arcs that I really like.

$4$

**Odiferous: **(adj.) yielding or diffusing an odor.

* * *

There was something wrong with his bed, and he wasn't sure how to fix it.

His day had been choppy—at times moving by lightning fast, other times slow as molasses—and it only served to make him more agitated. He kept getting up and stretching his legs every hour or so, always stopping by Annie's desk for a few minutes. It was one of those rare days that Joan had no missions for her, which was fortunate, because it meant that hopefully chaos wouldn't follow her around today. It was really stressful being her handler sometimes.

But stress wasn't what kept making him get up and visit her at her desk. Or if it was, this wasn't the kind of stress he knew and understood. It wasn't work stress, or lack of sleep—not that he had a lack of those two in his life—but it was a new kind of stress in his life, something that he couldn't remember feeling since back when he could read expressions and not just Braille. Relationship stress. It was a weird thing, manages to prey on your nerves and wear you away until you were a pathetic, quivering mess of insecurities.

He kept dropping by her desk, partly to check on her, but mostly to check on himself. He wanted to make sure they were all right. That he didn't freak her out and ruin their friendship forever. It made him want to empty his contents of tequila and chase it with a bottle of Xanax.

He spent enough of his formative years an insecure computer nerd. He was supposed to be past that shit. Unless Annie was involved. And then apparently all that hard work counted for nothing.

He rolled over in bed once more, burying his face in his pillow as if to smother his thoughts. He was exhausted, having only slept a handful of hours the night before. There was no reason for him to not immediately fall asleep.

She promised that she wouldn't tell anyone about last night, and he believed her. He always believed her. He'd always been nervous around thunderstorms, even as a kid. When he grew up, he got past that, even welcomed in during long bouts of dry, unbearable heat in the unforgiving desert—but of course, that all changed, as things are wont to do. But he made sure no one knew about his one little weakness, not even Joan. His brother was the only person on the planet to have an idea of what he felt, and now Annie knew, too.

He had no one to blame but himself. Carrie had split earlier in the night, and that was just fine with him. Saved the annoying morning after conversation. The forecast had been for thunderstorms, but he'd been too preoccupied with his own stupidity to pay attention and take note. Normally, he'd plan in advance and take a sleeping pill ahead of time. He wasn't proud to have to rely on such medication, but it made it easier to sleep through the whole night.

But he hadn't thought to take the pill, and woke up in a semi-panic hours later. He hadn't consciously intended to call anyone, but before he knew it he was talking to Annie. It wasn't until much later that it even occurred to him to be chagrined that it got this far. He never relied on someone as much as he did with Annie. It sounded kind of funny, considering he was the guy that kept Annie coming back home in one piece. But somewhere along the line, he started revealing more and more of his real self to her, and the longer it continued, the less he knew how to behave or what to do without her.

He tossed again, the sheets and comforter twisting around his waist. He let out a groan as the sheet twisted around his ankle, and he gave a vicious kick until his foot was freed. A scent of something indefinable tickled his nose, and even when he shifted once more it didn't go away.

Rather than be disgusted by his bout with insecurity, the smile in Annie's voice sounded just a little bit brighter every time he visited. He couldn't quite wrap his brain around it, but she didn't mind being woken up ridiculously early to take care of him. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't believe them, but not Annie.

She tolerated his quirks better than almost anyone he'd ever met. Even Natasha couldn't handle his sometimes questionable OCD and random, almost-bipolar mood swings. When that happened, she'd usually just huff, roll her eyes, and kick him out of bed.

Finally, when any normal human being in her place would have broken hours ago, Annie exhaled and said, "_Auggie_." She paused long enough to make sure he was paying attention—of course he was, he was incapable of paying attention to anything other than her today—and continued. "I'm not mad at you or upset or whatever. You freaked, you called me, I came over. I'm not going to never speak to you again because of that. I wouldn't have anyone else cool enough to hang out with if I did."

He smiled at her lame joke, but was ready to argue on her point. Before he could get there—when did she become a smoother talker than him?—she continued, "If you want to make it up to me, however, you're welcome to buy the first couple rounds for me."

He was more than happy to agree.

But that was hours ago, and now he was back in bed with a decent amount of quality booze in him without the ability to fall asleep. It didn't matter how many times he tossed and turned, because no matter what he did he couldn't get away from that trace of grapefruit perfume that had managed to imbed itself in his sheets in only a few hours. And maybe that might have been okay—he hadn't lied when he said he liked her perfume, he really did like it quite a bit—but without the actual source of that perfume there, it was wrong. Like a puzzle with half the pieces missing. And he hated incomplete puzzles.

He was a full-grown man, and one night of Annie _platonically _sharing his bed and he was suddenly incapable of falling asleep alone.

Great. She had permanently imbedded herself in his life, and now she had done the same with his sheets. Either they were going to need to have a very uncomfortable conversation in which he asked her to share the bed with him forever, or he was going to have to do something even more ridiculous and drastic.

He was going to need new sheets.

$4$

Lots of fluff and nonsense, but this was a fun addition. :D

Now, I'm on to watch _Harper's Island_, which I recently downloaded. Yes, I'm aware Christopher Gorham's in it, and I wanted to watch it even before I knew who he was (well, y'know, beyond "that nerd on _Ugly Betty_"), mostly because I'm a sucker for a good murder mystery. No spoilers people, but I'm hoping it's going to be good. :)


	53. Electricity

So I saw today's word and figured it would be wrong if I didn't find a way to use it, but I've been distracted most of the day packing and finishing _Harper's Island_. Yes, I finished a 13-episode miniseries in about three days. Yes, I'm insane. Similar to the show. Which everyone should watch because it was simultaneously terrifying and amazing _and oh my God shit got crazy_.

(This is why you shouldn't watch a whole TV show in the span of a long weekend.)

Some small references to _Belligerent_ (18).

$4$

**Hobson jobson: **(n.) the alteration of a word borrowed from a foreign language to accord more closely with the linguistic patterns of the borrowing language.

* * *

"You're not saying that right," she argued, and for the first time that night the words sounded funny on her tongue, like it took just a little bit too much work to get them out correctly. To remedy the problem, she took another swig of her beer. There. Much better.

"I'm def'nitely pronouncing it right," Auggie argued to her left. Like so many times before, they were drinking and sharing his couch. Initially they intended on watching some movie, but that had fallen to the wayside after their Chinese order was dropped off. Food was consumed and more and more beers were downed, and like usual the conversation flowed from there.

"No, you're not _sayin'_ it right," Annie replied, and she was sad to realize there was more slur to her words than she expected. "That's not the same as pronouncing it."

"Pssh, same diff'rence, babe," he mumbled. His words were as slurred as hers, if not more so. She didn't remember exactly how they got so drunk so quickly. Or maybe it just seemed really quick. She wasn't really aware of the time.

"It is not the same diff'rence," Annie argued, speaking slower than usual to make sure each word was correctly pronounced. "Jus' like _de rigueur _and _de regular_ are not the same."

"You're wrong, Miss Languistics," he drawled, tilting to turn towards her and dropping his head on the back of the couch, as if his head was suddenly too heavy to hold up.

She snickered and tapped his knee with her fingertip. "Yeah, you _so_ pronounced that wrong."

Auggie blew air out through his lips, feathering the strands of her hair and making her giggle some more. "Mean," he groused, trying to push up with his elbows into a proper sitting position, only to give up and flop back on the couch seconds later . "You knew wha' I meant, _Annieee_."

Even when he drew out the word into several syllables, she still had to marvel how her name sounded so much _prettier_ when it came from his mouth. Or maybe it was because she liked his lips so much. She thought that was probably a weird thought for one best friend to think about another best friend.

Ooh. And that train of thought hurt her head.

"_Anyway_, _de regular_ is totally how you say it," Auggie said, bringing them back to the original argument. He sort of killed his credibility when his equilibrium seemed to tilt and his head slid and fell onto her shoulder. His curly hair felt surprisingly nice against the skin of her shoulder as he twisted so his forehead rested more comfortably against her.

He hummed to himself and mumbled distractedly, "Your skin's real soft."

His next move caused her breath to catch in her throat. Very gently, and so slowly she almost thought she was imagining it, he nuzzled the skin of her upper arm with his nose, then pressed a feather light kiss there. There wasn't anything particularly sexy or sensual about it, but all the same she could feel her body go soft and hazy for all the right reasons.

But her brain was already too hazy to begin with from a few too many beers, so anything further would be reserved for her daydreams. That said, she wasn't sure how she was going to get out of this one without doing some inappropriate things to her best friend first.

"Anne?" he asked softly, stirring her out of her thoughts. He still hadn't moved, and she couldn't repress the heady shiver as his lips moved against her skin. Even when he pulled away, she knew that spot on her arm would be tingling for weeks.

She inhaled slowly through her nose. "Aug, you're really drunk, aren't you?"

"Mmm," he hummed once more, and she had to shut her eyes to close out the latest wave of urges. It didn't work. "Maybe."

Disappointment settled heavily in her stomach as she remembered the question he had answered. "I think we should get you to bed," she replied quietly, turning and resting her nose against his crown. She kissed his forehead, not unlike the way he had done to her arm, but she had the half-presence of mind to pull away after a few seconds.

He pulled away, only enough to look over at her hopefully. "You're welcome t'join me, babe," he offered, and the pull to agree was almost unbearable.

"You gotta stop calling me babe," she mumbled, half-groaning. Last time he did that at Allen's half the women were shooting daggers at her the whole night.

"Never," Auggie said, too smug for his own good.

She shook her head. Unsufferable. Insufferable? Whatever. "Under the circumstances, I don' think I can trust myself, much less you," she replied evenly, trying desperately to keep the disappointment out of her voice. If he noticed it and tried to entice her properly she knew her body wouldn't be able to resist.

Auggie smiled, a little blearier than usual, but she saw the usual streak of mischief in there. "Prolly," he admitted unashamedly.

"Yeah, that case I'll be takin' the couch like the good best friend _de rigueur_," she told him, pushing up and standing. She only swayed a little bit as the inebriation took over.

"Hey, no fair bringin' that up 'gain," he complained as she tugged on his arm ineffectually until he finally stood up. He was nowhere near as steady on his feet as her, and he nearly took them both down as she wrapped both her arms around his torso and tried to keep his dead weight upright. "Oof. Spins."

Annie chuckled. "Yeah, that's why we're takin' you to bed."

"Tha' sounds like a good plan," he said, but wrapped both his arms around her shoulders instead. "Firs' things firs', hugs."

She laughed more when she realized he thought she was trying to hug him, but snuggled anyway because she was going to take any sort of platonic contact from him that she could get. "Hugs," she agreed. "Now bed."

"Now bed," he agreed, managing to totter over to his room with her help. Before she could pull away, he nuzzled her hair once more and added, "Have a good night, babe."

Annie was stunned once more, her scalp prickling pleasantly as he lingered once more for way too long. "Night, Auggie."

$4$

This took a while, but it ended in a good place and I had even more fun with the drunk dialogue. Which probably makes me sound drunk, but oh well. XD


	54. Can't Beat 'Em

Technically, this is the WotD for Sunday, but it's been an off week and this was all I could manage.

Also, never take a marketing class early in the morning.

Tags to _Fishbowls_ (26) and _In Charge_ (3).

$4$

**Homologate: **(v.) to approve; confirm or ratify.

* * *

Having walls made of windows was detrimental to Annie's work some days.

This mostly only happened when she had a lot of paperwork or translations to do, or like that one time Joan dragged Liza Hearn into her office. But then, _nobody_ was paying attention to their work that day.

And of course, there were those days when her eyes drifted over to Auggie's office. She never meant to stare, but it was difficult to not to when he was joking around with Stu and laughing. Of course, she was a little biased.

This was a different situation, unfortunately. Her nerves were bouncing around like a little kid hyped up on sugar, and Jai kept glaring away whenever her heel started tapping again.

She sent the papers as soon as she walked in the building, so she knew Joan had to have seen it by now as she hazarded another glance at her boss' office. Not for the first time, she wished Joan had a slightly crappier poker face.

Annie nearly jumped through the ceiling when her computer _dinged_. Clearly she was just a little wound up this morning—and really needed to remember to lower her volume. She had an e-mail, but she felt her blood run cold when her eyes landed on the sender. Joan.

Crap.

Annie squeezed her eyes shut, slowly counting up ten as her mouse hovered precariously over the e-mail. Expelling a breath of air, she double-clicked before she could lose her nerve.

If she was scared before, she was petrified when she read those four words: _In my office now_.

Double crap.

Looking over both shoulders surreptitiously—like anyone could read her mind and know what was going on—she tried to compose herself as fast as possible before slowly standing up, almost but not quite slinking over to Joan's office.

It truly wasn't fair that one glare from her boss and she felt like she was 15 and getting detention all over again. She gnawed on her bottom lip, tugging on the hem of her skirt nervously before tapping on Joan's doorframe and walking in.

For her part, Joan didn't so much as glance up from her computer screen. "Sit," she ordered, moving only to take note of whatever was on her screen.

Annie did as she was told, sliding into the closest chair without a word. It was more difficult than it sounded, because all she wanted in the world at that moment was to say a word. Well, really like 400. Same difference.

She felt the urge to fidget more than ever, but before she could start Auggie strolled on in the office. She felt her body relaxing the second she saw him, a small smile of relief creeping on her face, taking away some of the tension.

"Anderson, left chair," Joan instructed, all her focus still on her computer. Auggie didn't seem fazed in the least, grinning to himself as he walked over to the chair and sat down. She envied his calm in the face of pure terror.

One one thousand. Two one thousand. Three—

"I received an interesting piece of mail this morning," Joan said, leaning back abruptly in her chair and breaking the strangling silence.

"Oh?" Auggie spoke up, which Annie was eternally grateful for because she didn't trust her voice at that moment.

"Yes," Joan replied, her tone as clipped and formal as ever. "This particular document in question was informing me that one of my agents has begun a relationship with the head of my Technology Operations Division."

Auggie was practically giggling to himself, he was so amused. "Really? Which agents?"

Joan ignored his question and observed them with what looked like a strange mixture of fascination and affection. "What I find odd, however," she explained, making a steeple out of her fingers and resting them under her chin, "Is why I'm only being informed of this now when the relationship's been going on for, oh… the last six months."

Triple crap.

Annie's eyes bugged out of her head, and someone in the room let out a ridiculous high pitched squeak and unfortunately she was fairly certain that someone was her. Oh God. She was going to faint. And then Joan was going to fire her for misconduct. Maybe even harassment. She was weirdly overprotective of Auggie some days.

Auggie looked just as stunned as she felt, but recovered quicker. "Touché, Joan," he replied, tilting his head to the left. "But you know how the water cooler gossip is around here. We figured it'd be easier to keep everything on the down low."

Annie rolled her eyes at the 'down low' phrase—she loved him, but sometimes he could be a total tool—but did take note of Joan's slightly wider smile. Always a good thing.

"I might buy that… had not all of the DPD had a suspicion of you relationship for the past two months."

Even though she desperately didn't want to, Annie giggled. The situation was just so damned _surreal_ and bizarre.

"Does that mean you're not approving our application?" Auggie's casual question caused her laugh to catch in her throat. The implications behind that were pretty bad. If they didn't approve and sanction their relationship in the workplace, the higher ups could decide to move Annie to a different department, or vice versa. She could lose her favorite handler and possibly her spot in the DPD, all because they finally decided to take their relationship on the up-and-up.

"Did I say that, Auggie?" Joan countered, and Annie thanked every heaven there was for that beautiful Mona Lisa smile. She would honestly cry if they tried to break her and Auggie up.

"You're approved," she added, eyeing the two of them critically. "With the warning that you need to stop thinking you can get anything past me."

Auggie grinned, a 100-watter that made her want to jump over her chair and tackle him to the ground. But she needed to maintain some air of professionalism, so she restricted herself to leaning over and squeezing his hand once.

Joan returned her attention back to her computer screen, and Annie knew that meant they were dismissed. They didn't get farther than the doorframe when she added, "And tell Stu I said congratulations on winning the pot."

Damn. They really could get _nothing_ past that woman.

$4$

More nonsense, but fun. XD I think I inadvertently referenced like 4 WotDs in this one, even though I never intended to do so in the beginning. I just like writing about Joan and Stu.


	55. With a View

I never write about this, which is why it's so strange I decided to this morning…

$4$

**Darkle: **(v.) to grow dark, gloomy, etc.

* * *

With every swirl of blackish gray, every rush of wind, every drop of rain, Annie's hope sunk further and further into the ground. At the moment, if she wasn't to measure it, it would probably be somewhere past the Earth's crust.

"Are you still staring dejectedly out the window?" Auggie asked from behind her.

"No," she replied sulkily, but her voice was muffled around her thumb, gnawing on a wayward cuticle. She _told_ Danielle it would be a bad idea to get her nails done ahead of time.

"Annie, you gotta look away," he began gently, walking up and wrapping his arms around her waist. "It's still too early to tell. There are still two days—"

"It's supposed to rain all week," she interrupted, swapping her thumb for her pointer finger and began chewing.

Auggie dropped his chin on her should, humming thoughtfully. "Is it really going to be the end of the world if it happens?"

Annie frowned deeply around her finger, not appreciating his infallible logic one bit as she grudgingly admitted, "No."

"Are we going to have to cancel just because of it?" he asked, giving her narrow waist a tiny squeeze.

"No," she replied, but there was a new edge of desperation to her voice. There was no way they could put this off. Then she would cry for real.

"Then what do we have to worry about?" he countered, and even without seeing his face she knew he was grinning, but that only made her frown more. She didn't want him to make her smile. She wanted to pout.

"Nothing," she grumbled, dropping her hands from her mouth long enough to place them over his wrists. "I hate thunderstorms."

"I thought that was my line," Auggie joked, tilting and burying his face into her wavy hair, nuzzling the side of her neck with his nose and mouth.

"Not today," she mumbled. Even though she didn't want to, her head moved of its own accord, tipping to the side and allowing him more access to skin.

Taking Annie's movement as consent—like she could say no to him—he cradled her body closer to his, slowly pressing a line of small kisses up her throat to her jaw. Of their own volition, her eyes slid shut and she let out an almost silent sigh.

"Is it gonna matter that much to you if it rains in two days?" he asked directly in her ear, raising pleasant goosebumps along that side of her body. His inquisitive fingers found her left hand, running over the bumps and grooves on her fourth finger where the ring lay.

"Yes," Annie replied stubbornly, aware of her sudden case of breathlessness and how her skin seemed to flush further every time she heard and felt his voice and breath against her neck. He pulled away suddenly, and she barely held back the whimper of complaint that threatened to break through.

"Is it really?" he repeated. She knew that tone. She learned early on in their relationship that Auggie had no problem whatsoever being a tease if it meant he got what he wanted. And he used that to his advantage almost every chance he got because he knew she would cave eventually. It wouldn't be fair had it not been so much fun.

"Maybe," she hedged. His grip tightened around her waist as punishment, but he made sure to keep his mouth away from her neck, even as she shifted restlessly.

"Really?" Auggie asked one last time, his voice rough in her ear. Abruptly, he spun her around in his arms, backing her up against the window. She didn't realize how flushed she felt until her heated skin hit the significantly cooler pane.

When he didn't do anything more than pin her between him and the wall, she shifted restlessly again. He didn't offer any help other than to smile devilishly, the ass. Huffing, Annie rolled her eyes and replied, "Yes."

Auggie's grin turned genuine, and he gently leaned forward until their foreheads were touching. "Good," he murmured. "Because we're getting married in two days, and I doubt anyone at the reception would appreciate me having to do this to make you stop pouting."

His response made her laugh in surprise, and she closed the short distance with a kiss. "Most likely," she admitted. "But you're still a tease."

He nodded patiently, like he somehow understood her pain. "But I'm _your_ tease, remember?"

Annie smiled. "Always."

$4$

I never write about wedding stuff. Mostly because I have no experience in that arena (and won't probably for another 5-10 years), but this was a fun idea that I couldn't resist.

I really intended on doing something angsty (it _is_ an angsty word) but instead this came out and I think I like it way better than something depressing. XD


	56. Delirium

Sorry this is a day late, but I got distracted yesterday… but **Artie** posted a WotD, too! Go check it out (shockingly, it's awesome. Like always)!

Tag to _Sandwiches_ (48).

$4$

**Aplomb: **(n.) assurance of manner or of action, self-possession; confidence; coolness.

* * *

It took him longer than he'd like to admit to remember the night before. In his defense, mornings were pretty rough on him after losing his sight. So it took him a couple minutes to get his bearings.

Annie had crashed on his couch for the night. Danielle had threatened to kick her out, and while she did eventually rescind on her offer—at least until Annie could find a new apartment—but she came to him instead. He hated to see her—however metaphorically—upset, but he was prouder than he'd like to admit that she hadn't thought to come to anyone other than him. He liked knowing that she relied on him.

Inhaling deeply, Auggie sat up in bed, wincing a little as the joints in his shoulders cracked in protest. There was something in the air, something that smelled a lot like food. Delicious food. His stomach rumbled happily in response.

"Annie?" he called, pushing himself out of bed, all the while keeping one hand against the wall. Normally, he wouldn't bother, but he was still distracted with sleep and didn't want to run the chance of tripping and landing on his face in front of her. He also felt a little more disoriented than usual, but that wasn't too uncommon.

"I'm in your kitchen," she called, and as he walked closer the smells grew stronger. Annie waited until he was actually made it into the kitchen before announcing, "I made breakfast!"

Her tone, weirdly chipper as it was, made him hesitate. He couldn't remember the last time someone made him breakfast.

Well, that wasn't quite true. In the past, a handful of his one-night stands had cooked him breakfast, but never without some ulterior motives. They always wanted something else out of him—usually a long-term relationship—when usually by that point he wanted them the hell out of his house.

He knew without asking that Annie's motives were nothing short of altruistic. She made him breakfast for the sole purpose of thanking him for sleeping on his couch.

"My sister's the actually talented chef and while you do have a ridiculous amount of food in your cupboards, I didn't want to risk burning your house down, so I just made toast and bacon."

Auggie shrugged, propping his shoulder against the wall because he didn't believe he could hold himself upright. She had that effect on him sometimes. "'S fine with me."

"Good," she replied. She really did sound relieved. "Do you want orange juice or coffee?"

Even half-awake and stomach oddly unsettled, he still possessed the ability to shoot her a dry look.

He got a light, lilting laugh in response, and he could hear her moving around, glass on metal clinking. He wanted to ask if she felt as hot as him, but before he could she replied. "I figured as much," she answered, walking up to him with something that gave off more heat than her body was capable. "And before you ask, yes, it's black."

In the process, she brushed against him, accidentally tickling his arm with her curly hair. He was suddenly seized with the urge to tangle his fingers in her hair and cover her mouth with his.

"Do you want your coffee or not?" Annie asked gently. That wasn't the first time he'd been struck by some fantasy about her—it was pretty damn understanding in his case—but it was the first time she'd ever caught him. "Aug?"

"Sorry," he replied, reaching out and taking the proffered coffee. "Still haven't quite woken up this morning."

It was the truth—sort of—because he was feeling kind of off. But that easily could've been the result of his best friend unknowingly catching him fantasizing about her. Sipping the coffee helped. Sort of.

Annie shifted, standing next to him and chuckling softly at his lame joke. She was too close to him, because the bare skin of her upper arms—he needed to buy her more long sleeved sleep shirts—kept brushing against his, teasing and slowly driving him insane. The heat between them seemed to increase, and while he couldn't see her, he was sure he could time her breathing.

"So, what's with the food?" he asked, breaking away from her and firmly tamping down on his libido. "You got me sandwiches yesterday. Thought we were even."

"I don't think you've been keeping proper score," she replied, brushing past him again—for the record, he did not flinch—and moved things around. "Besides, I woke up before you anyway. And it's not like bacon and buttered toast is all that gourmet of a breakfast."

He followed her to the counter mindlessly—the churning in his stomach told him in that second he would follow her to the ends of the earth if she asked—and managed to choke out, "You didn't need to, Annie."

"I know," she replied simply. She turned to him again, handing him a plate of steaming food. "But I wanted to. Let it go and eat my freaking toast, 'kay?"

He nodded numbly, unable for the first time in years to think up a proper retort. Sarcasm and dry wit was his thing. Why wasn't anything coming to him?

For that matter, why was Annie's presence affecting him so much? He never lost his cool to this degree—at least, he hadn't since his voice broke in the eighth grade—and since woke up, that was all that had happened, over and over again. He was full of this misplaced nervous energy, practically twitching every time she got too close.

"Hey," she said softly, a note of concern lacing her tone as she took his plate away and invaded his space even further. "Are you okay? You don't look so hot."

Nope, not at all, but she was more than hot enough for the both of them.

He didn't respond quickly enough—getting what was floating around in his brain to his tongue was difficult enough _without_ having her little body pressed close to him and that scent of grapefruit overloading that one good sense he had left—because she managed to inch even closer, her fingers slipping through her bangs and resting her palm against his forehead to check his temperature. He crossed his arms uncomfortably as she added, "You feel kind of clammy, Aug."

He swallowed thickly. She was still uncomfortably close, cornering him against the counter and giving him no place to go—unless he wanted to ruin his smooth operator image in the process.

"I have been feeling kind of off today," he said, not entirely sure if he was telling the truth or lying. He nearly jumped out of his skin when her free hand came to rest on his crossed arms. Every time she inhaled, he could feel her breasts against his chest. There was no reasonable purpose for her to be this close to him.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Auggie," she apologized, her warm breath fanning across his neck. "I hope I didn't get you sick."

He smiled badly, switching his weight from foot to foot. But if she noticed his discomfort, she made no attempt to move. "Annie, you can't get me sick. You never had radiation poisoning."

She shook her head, and he could feel her hair move against his skin. Maybe if he finally gave in and kissed her, he could blame it on delirium and get away with it…

"No, when I was leaving, Danielle was telling me that Chloe caught the 24-hour bug that had been going around her class. I hope I didn't pass it on to you."

Her fingers brushed through his bangs again, less like she was checking his temperature and more like she was petting him, but it felt so good he couldn't even work up the energy to care. His body leaned into the gloriously soft touch all on its own, and if there wasn't that little bit of pride left in him, he'd probably be purring with happiness.

He did feel kind of uncomfortably hot, but that what happened when his personal space was demolished by a beautiful—if fortunately at the moment clueless—blonde. "I'm sure I'm fine," he replied.

She snorted, but didn't stop moving her fingers. Something so simple and innocent really shouldn't have felt so damned good. "Auggie, you're hot and clammy and visibly sweating. You've also lost about half your usual coloring."

Wait, was he actually sick? He didn't feel very sick, unless you planned on counting all those X-rated thoughts he'd been thinking about with his best friend. That probably counted as some kind of sick.

Granted, he'd also been pretty distracted by Annie's proximity and the feel of her skin for several minutes. But if that was causing his sickness or masking the symptoms, he wasn't sure.

"Come here, you're going back to bed," she ordered, gently pulling away and taking him by the hand. This would have been all fine and dandy—after all, follow her to the ends of the earth, all that good stuff—but in the process that meant she had to move her hand from his forehead. The loss of contact nearly made him cry out, but he managed to hold his tongue as she grabbed his hand and slowly shuffled him out of the room.

"I really think I'm okay," he started again, but she led him back to his room like the pet he was starting to think she thought of him as, and it seemed kind of moot.

"I don't have a thermometer, but I know you're burning up," she said, mostly dragging him the rest of the way. "So you're going back to sleep, and I'm ordering more sandwiches and soup. In that time, you are not allowed to leave the bed. Understand?"

"Sort of," he replied, and that must have been enough for her because she tugged on his arm until he gave up and stumbled forward. "I still think I'm okay. Just, you know, delirious maybe."

"Delirious?" she repeated, spinning him around—if he could still see, he was sure the room spun, too—and using only the slightest amount of pressure on his shoulders to get him to sit down on the bed. "What kind of delirious?"

Auggie tilted his head up, semi-confident of her location—after all, she was standing between his legs. "Oh, you know, the usual stuff."

"I don't think usual and delirium go together," she reasoned, but she returned her fingers to his bangs, smoothing his hair again and he lost the ability to care.

"Ehh," he replied distractedly, his eyes slipping shut as her fingers worked against his scalp. "I don't think it's that different for delusions. Fantasies. You know."

She laughed, and he didn't know if it was with him or at him, but it still sounded pretty. "Fantasies? Yeah, I don't think you know what you're talking about."

He shrugged helplessly. He really did feel like there was something wrong with him. Blaming it on a 24-hour bug seemed just as likely as anything else. "In my defense, I wouldn't be thinking of you like that if you didn't spend all your time invading my personal space."

Her fingers still against his scalp, and while he didn't bother opening his eyes—blind or not, they still felt so heavy and sleepy—he made a noise of dissent. "What does that mean?" she asked, her free hand cupping and tilting his jaw so she could presumably look him in the eye.

He shrugged again, too tired to do much else, but did manage to open his eyes just a little. "Not much," he replied. "Just that if I'm mesmerizing, the word for you is _distracting_."

He vaguely recalled her calling his name again, but he was so tired, he sort of fell asleep. Hey, he _was_ sick, after all.

$4$

**Listen up, people!**

So the super-wonderful **Spyridon** out here on ff created this really cool livejournal account called Operation Alpha Maiden, and this year they're running a _CA_ Secret Santa competition, which is pretty damn awesome in my opinion.

If you have a ff account, you don't need a lj account to submit an application, you can do so anonymously (provided you include your ff/lj ID number), at which point **Spyridon** will review your application and post it on the site.

Point is, I think everybody with an lj/ff account should think of submitting an app, because I always thought a CA Secret Santa was a really cute idea. Additionally, in the coming year they'll start releasing monthly challenges for anyone interested in participating.

Anyway, here's the website so you can get all the info (just remove the spaces):

http:/ operation-cafe . livejournal . com/1609 . html

(And who knows, maybe you can get a Secret Santa fic from me! ;D)


	57. Don't Blink

**Chichi:** (adj.) affectedly trendy.

* * *

Annie trudged into the DPD, eyes heavy with lack of sleep, and dumped her things on her desk, keeping the one small cardboard package with her. She needed to crawl into bed and sleep for six years, but before that happened there was still work to do.

Auggie was still in his office, which was a pretty common comfort for her. It was a rare night when he didn't stay up with her through a mission. He was a good friend like that.

Shouldering the sliding glass door open, she ruffled her flat and slightly tangled hair with her free hand. "I'm never gonna understand how you consistently save my ass."

"Probably not," he admitted. Auggie leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head until his back cracked a few times. "Just feel lucky you have someone as awesome as me in your life."

"Yeah, yeah," she replied tiredly, waving her hand and dropping her package on his desk with a thud. "I'm not here to make your ego bigger."

Auggie cocked his head to the side, tilted towards the sound of her box. "What was that?"

"My thank you," she said, badly stifling a yawn into her shoulder as she pushed the box until it hit his fingers. "Thought you'd like it. It's already open."

She watched blearily as his confusion only deepened and he slowly examined the box with his fingers. He unfolded the cardboard flaps carefully, pushing the Styrofoam peanuts out of the way. Finally, he found her little present, but the confusion written all over his face only tripled.

"You got me… a shirt?"

Tired as she was, Annie was still capable of blushing, which she did. "It's black, and has a blue outline of a phone booth that says 'The angels have the phone box' on it in all caps."

"Angels—wait, a phone booth? You mean the TARDIS—you got me a _Doctor Who_ t-shirt?" Auggie started grinning the second it all clicked into place, and she knew from experience any second he would start laughing at her.

"Yes," she answered, frowning slightly as she rolled her tense shoulders back. "I thought you might like it," she added self-consciously.

"Do you even watch _Doctor Who_?"

"No," she admitted with a glare. "But when I was waiting for my flight I wandered around the gift shop for a while and saw it. The guy behind the counter told me it was a reference to some scary _Doctor Who_ episode, and I knew _you_ watched the show, so I figured you might like it."

Auggie looked like he wanted to continue to tease her about her lack of knowledge regarding all things nerdy, but instead he calmly explained, "The episode was called _Blink_, and the angels were the bad guys. That phone box is called the TARDIS, and it's how the Doctor time travels. I have the season with that episode on it if you ever want to get the joke."

Annie smiled. "Of course you do," she replied softly.

"And the guy at the gift shop was right—it's actually pretty freaky, at least by the usual _Doctor Who_ standards," he added, standing up and stretching once more.

She took his arm like always as they navigated their way out of his office, his new present draped casually over his shoulder. "And by the way, I do like it. A lot. Thank you."

She dropped her head on his shoulder, mostly out of pure exhaustion, and grinned. "I thought you would," she responded. "You're nerdy like that."

"Hey, nerds rule the world," he pointed out, recycling an old conversation between the two of them. "Age of the geek, baby."

"Whatever, weirdo."

$4$

A few super-nerdy facts that helped create this WotD:

1.) Yes, I seriously talked about _Doctor Who_. No, I have never seen the show. Yes, I'm aware it's awesome. Yes, I know _Blink_ is an actual episode. It's the only one I've ever seen, mostly in thanks to my roommate's wacky dad.

2.) "The Angels have the phone box" is a real t-shirt. You can find it on ThinkGeek, an aptly nerdy website full of lots of awesome things, like an Enterprise pizza cutter and "Soft Kitty" t-shirts and bacon plush toys. Approximately 50% of my Christmas presents are bought from here.

3.) Thank Hardison from _Leverage_ for "Age of the geek."

Hope you enjoyed my never ending nerdiness!


	58. Processing

So happy to hear that all of you adore the good Doctor (even if I don't actually watch it myself XD). I always love it when I succeed in amusing you guys.

$4$

**Dilatory:** (adj.) tending to put off what ought to be done at once; given to procrastination.

* * *

Once the thought occurred to Auggie, it took approximately sixty seconds to decide to go through with it.

But once that decision was made, things got a little trickier. Yet again, this was one of those experiences that would be significantly easier with working eyes—but that was why he dragged/threatened Stu along. Second opinions never hurt.

Even then, it had only taken two days to finally figure everything out. He was truly grateful for Stu's help—he really needed to put in for a raise for that poor guy.

All of the things he expected to run into trouble with never actually happened, which was no small miracle. Auggie expected more hesitation or difficulty to accomplish everything. And thus far, everything had gone along swimmingly.

He should've known better than to let his guard down. Obviously, chaos would remedy that for him.

"Hey, hon?"

Auggie jumped, his hand automatically going to his pants' pocket. "Yeah?" he called distractedly, breathing slowly in and out once before relaxing his stance.

"I was thinking about pasta tonight. Red sauce and meatballs. Does that work for you?"

"Sure," he replied, sighing heavily and dropping his head on the dresser in front of him. He made that decision two and a half weeks ago, ironed out every solitary detail… and still hadn't gone through with it.

"Aug, honey… what are you doing?"

He jumped again, yanking away sharply from the dresser only to smack his head on the table lamp. Cursing, Auggie recoiled, clutching his forehead as pain bloomed across his forehead. Christ, that hurt.

"Auggie!" Annie cried, immediately rushing over to him. She hovered close, one hand on his shoulder and another gently pushing his fingers away. "Are you okay?"

Auggie froze, tensed, then nodded once. "I'm fine," he replied stiffly, ignoring the spiking pain. "Just clumsy today."

She traced what would be the source of a very nasty bruise in the coming morning, fingers gently gliding over the swelling skin. "Oh, Aug," she murmured. "I'm sorry for distracting you."

"It's not your fault," he assured her, feeling that familiar rush of warmth at her never ceasing affection. He cupped her slender fingers and stilled her movements. "I was distracted."

She was frowning, and he could tell even without seeing her. "I don't like to see you hurt."

_Now_, his brain told him, _do it now. While you still have the chance._

"Let me get you an ice pack or a bag of peas or something," Annie replied, starting to pull away.

"Wait!" Auggie cried, desperately grabbing her wrist before she could get any farther.

"What?" she asked, laughing a little nervously. "I'm only going to be gone like thirty seconds."

"No, I just…" he faltered, the words caught in his throat. It wasn't that difficult. Just a few short syllables and it would all be done. "I just wanted to say…"

Annie waited and waited as he continued to fail and fail. She huffed a little when he stayed silent, and prompted, "Yes, Auggie?"

His mouth was already open. Just _say_ the words.

"I love you, Annie."

Goddammit. Not quite the right words.

She paused, hesitant. She knew that wasn't what he meant to say. "I love you too, Aug."

Good enough. For now.

He sighed heavily, but forced a smile on his face. "Just keep that in mind."

She squeezed his hand uncertainly. "Oh… kay. I will. Can I get you a bag of ice now?"

Auggie grinned. "Yes, absolutely."

That little velvet box was weighing in his pants' pocket, and his heart. He'd made his decision, and there was no way he wasn't going to go through with it. But there was a time and place for everything, and this wasn't the time or the place. He trusted his instincts, and he trusted that when it _was_ the right time, he would know.

And it couldn't hurt to put it off for a few more days.


	59. That's 007

I completed this way earlier in the day, but haven't had the time to transfer it from my notebook until now.

$4$

**Panache: **(n.) dash or flamboyance in manner or style.

* * *

Danielle had determined that the only way to make up lying to her for two years was lots and lots of groveling. This groveling could be carried out best at the Thursday night dinners that she was still required to attend.

Annie couldn't help but feel a little bitter about the whole thing—she was still in the process of unpacking everything in her brand spankin' new apartment, and shockingly it was difficult to accomplish much when she had to leave for several days twice or more a month to do her job. She didn't have _time_ to drive out to her sister's house every Thursday night for dinner.

She never said this—mostly because she didn't feel like getting strangled—so she sucked it up and got dressed up once a week to have her sister throw some new loser at her.

Eventually, that didn't qualify as _enough_ groveling. She never said anything, but Annie knew Danielle hated it every time she lied to the latest 'date' and explained her job at the Smithsonian.

Annie might have felt guilty, but it was part of her job. While spilling the beans to Danielle was nothing short of inevitable, that didn't apply to everyone. And there was no way in hell she was going to tell Josh the Accountant about her career in the CIA.

"Bring Auggie along," Danielle instructed over the phone the Monday before.

She nearly dropped her phone, yanking her dress pants on and balancing precariously on one foot. "Excuse me?"

"Bring Auggie with you this week for dinner," Danielle repeated. "I haven't seen him since he met me at the Smithsonian, and that was months ago. It's not like we can pretend that I don't know he doesn't really work there."

Oh, hell. "I don't know what you're talking about, Danielle," she replied tiredly. "I'm coming to dinner Thursday."

"And bring Auggie!"

"I'm not bringing Auggie," she replied firmly, wriggling the material over her hips and closing the snap. "Contrary to your somewhat delusional beliefs, he does actually have stuff to do in his life outside of work. He can't just come to dinner because you want him to."

Danielle huffed. "I'm sure he has time. After all you've put me through, I thought you'd be more understanding about this."

Annie rolled her eyes and groaned silently at the obvious guilt trip. "That's not going to work on me," she replied stiffly. "I will go to your dinners, I will do the proper amount of groveling, I will even handle your well-meaning guilt trips. But know this: you are not dragging Auggie into this. He's done nothing to you."

She knew that pissed Danielle off, but it was early and she really needed to get to work sometime soon.

"I was just thinking you could bring him and then Mike wouldn't need to ask one of his coworkers to dinner on Thursday…"

Annie's fingers stilled on the buttons of her blouse, and she spoke slowly, "You're saying that if I drag Auggie along you won't force me to make nice with your loser of the week."

"Loser of the week? Hey, Greg was a really nice guy—"

"He was the _only_ nice guy," she interrupted. "And he also happened to be married. With three kids."

"In my defense, I didn't know—"

"He tried to tell you four times! And he had a ring on his finger!"

Danielle let out a series of strangled noises, unable to defend her horrible taste in dates. "Just bring Auggie to dinner."

The line went dead, and Annie glared incomprehensibly at her cellphone for several seconds. Dropping down on her bed, she let out a growl at her sister's stubbornness.

"Did I hear my name?"

Annie turned her glare to the doorway, watching as Auggie poked his head inside.

"My sister wants you to come to dinner Thursday," she grumbled. "And this time, she's actually serious."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Annie moaned, flopping back on her bed exasperatedly. "She's continuing to punish me for lying to her?"

"So I'm being dragged along?" Auggie asked, walking into her bedroom. "That's logical. Did you tell her I stayed over?"

"No!" she answered, shooting back up out of bed. Seeing the alarm on Auggie's face, she slumped, burying her head in her hands. "There's no way I could get away with telling her you stayed the night."

Auggie chuckled. "You do remember that I got drunk and slept on your couch last night?"

"_I_ know that," she said impatiently. "But Danielle wouldn't believe that, and assume we were sleeping together, and then Thursday night dinners would be even _worse_."

"You really have an interesting sense of discomfort," he informed her with a grin. She snorted and tugged on his hand, leading him to perch on the edge of the bed next to her.

"Yeah, well now you'll have that too," she replied tiredly, knocking her shoulder into his. "'Cuz you'll be coming with me to dinner Thursday night."

Auggie didn't lose his smile for a second, something she greatly appreciated. "Blackmail or bribery?"

Annie considered it for a second. "Fifty-fifty," she said, dropping her cell on the bed next to her. "In addition to the usual guilt trip I-lied-to-her stuff, she informed me this morning that if I bring you she said she won't bring a loser of the week."

"I feel so special."

"You should," she informed him with false perkiness, laughing a little. "My sister doesn't blackmail me for just anyone."

"I bet she'd make a great agent…"

"Not a fucking chance."

$4$

Mostly dialogue, but seeing as how that's my niche, it's not a big surprise. Every once in a while I need an (almost) all dialogue WotD. And this was a fun situation that I could theoretically see being brought into the show.


	60. Echoes

This has been done a few times before, but I took care to make it original. :)

$4$

**Fey:** (adj.) possessing or displaying a strange and otherworldly aspect or quality; magical or fairylike; elfin.

* * *

Oddly enough, sleep wasn't easy for Annie after they finally slept together.

This had only been their second night together—of course not counting all those times one had crashed on the other's couch—and while her body was crying for more sleep, she couldn't force her eyes shut. She didn't _want_ to sleep, even she desperately needed it.

But, for whatever weird, perverse desire, Annie truly enjoyed watching Auggie sleep. Eventually experience told her she would get used to sharing the same bed with him, but at the moment, she really didn't want to get used to anything.

She propped her head on his chest, blinking lazily as she studied Auggie's face in the dim room. She had memorized his features and expressions long ago, but until now she never had much opportunity to study him in his sleep.

Annie never appreciated how truly animated he was until she saw him asleep. He might have been blind, but he was never truly still; whether barking orders, laughing with Greg, breaking codes, or pacing across the room, he could never stay still for longer than a handful of minutes. Most of the time it made her smile and at the worst it made her roll her eyes, but no matter what her mood she always understood his mild case of ADHD. She had it, too.

But when he slept, she never had to worry about him fidgeting or moving around too much and ruining her concentration. His body was relaxed face at peace, and it all gave her a great source of comfort. Even if she was losing sleep, she more than made up for it studying Auggie.

Like tonight, for example. She would only get a handful of hours of sleep but she never hesitated a second to wonder if it was all worth it. To her, there was no doubt, because it would always be worth it. The last four weeks of dating had told her as much.

Her eyes felt heavier with each blink, but that still wasn't enough to keep her from drifting off into dreamland. She thought of ninth grade English and the story of Narcissus and Echo. Luckily, Auggie was not _that_ full of himself, so she didn't expect her love life to turn into that much of a tragedy. She wasn't dating Ben anymore.

After dating Auggie, she wondered sometimes what she saw in Ben—but recognized that was just her mind's way of moving on with life. She found Ben attractive for a number of reasons, just like she found hopping from country to country after college. Normal people might not tend to agree, but she had never been anything resembling normal.

"You know, I know I'm pretty, but I really don't think I'm pretty enough to warrant you losing this much sleep."

When Auggie spoke, Annie prided herself that she didn't react too much. She didn't jump or flinch, just a mild tensing of her features for a split second before her mouth morphed into a pout. She really thought he was asleep.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked softly, a quieter volume seemed necessary for the night. Now that she knew he was up, she couldn't resist tapping out a gentle tempo on his chest in time with his heartbeats.

"Last hour or so," he answered, and as his response rumbled through his chest she shivered. He was grinning roguishly to himself, happy to have surprised her once more. "It's hard to ignore you staring so fixatedly at me."

She could feel a blush rising on her cheeks, but she refused to be embarrassed. "Well, I did tell you once I found you mesmerizing."

"Yes, I remember, you've brought that one up a couple times before," he replied snarkily, causing her to poke his abs roughly in punishment.

"Quiet, you," she mumbled, the faint pinkness on her cheeks ramping up tenfold. "I just—I like—shut up. No judging."

He smirked and moved, swiftly cupping the back of her neck, splaying his fingers through her hair. He used his thumb to tilt her chin so he would know for sure she was looking him in the eyes. "Trust me when I say you staring at me is not the worst thing that's happened while I was asleep. Complete opposite, in fact."

She giggled, snuggling into his hand. "Do I want to hear those stories?"

Auggie shook his head. "Let's just go with weird things happen in college."

"That only makes me more concerned," she replied with a shake of her head. "You get into too many shenanigans."

"Hi pot, it's me, the kettle," he replied dryly.

She buried her head into his chest, shaking her head. "I think it's too late for your witticisms," she told him, her voice muffled against his skin. "I'm too tired to properly respond."

"That's why normal people are usually asleep right now."

She nipped his skin in punishment, grinning to herself when he jumped. Kissing the same spot in apology, she glanced back up at him once more. "Hmm, maybe sleep is a good idea…"

Annie pulled away, but she only got a few inches when his arm wrapped firmly around her waist. "Yeah, you're not getting away that easy."

$4$

I'm not going to bother explaining the Narcissus and Echo reference, because anyone that doesn't know can always Google it. ;)


	61. Bliss

A day late again but worth it. XD

Post _Open Bar_ (39). I told you I was going to write some kind of follow-up to this eventually.

$4$

**Bacchanalia: **(n.) the ancient Roman festival in honor of Bacchus, celebrated with dancing, song, and revelry.

* * *

"How are you doing?"

Annie shrugged. "Eh," she replied. "It could be worse."

"Ain't that the truth."

She snickered, purposely bumping her knee against Auggie's. "Thanks for coming, buddy."

His grip on her waist tightened, bringing her an inch or so closer to him. "Anytime," he said sincerely. "That's why I'm awesome."

She chuckled, aware the champagne was going straight to her head. "You are," she agreed. "Unfortunately for your gigantic ego."

"My ego is a healthy size."

"Some might say overweight."

"Healthy," he argued, grinning to himself.

"Whatever, fatty."

On the turn, he tugged her sharply so she fell against him, causing her to laugh loudly and earning them a couple of stares. "Do I feel fat to you?"

"Hmm," Annie faked-mused, her lips brushing against his jaw as she stared up at him. "You have been looking kind of squishy lately…"

Auggie gasped, and sent her a perfectly insulted face. "Well, I never."

She laughed, burying her head in the crook of his neck. "Oh, I'm happy you're my best friend," she muttered to herself.

"Ditto," he agreed, keeping her hand close to his chest like he thought she was going to leave.

She pulled her face away from his neck long enough to shake her head. "You're ridiculous," she told him, her voice thick with barely contained laughter.

"But I'm yours," he said with an alarming amount of sincerity until he ruined it with a laugh.

"Oh my God, you guys are _too_ cute!"

They froze on the dance floor, Annie twisting and glancing at the newly minted bride that had just appeared out of nowhere. "Oh, hey, Emily."

She beamed, full of post-wedding bliss. She did look beautiful in a lovely princess-style gown—a little poofy for Annie, but still nice—and clapped her hands together excitedly. "I'm so happy you could come! I've totally missed you!"

As odd and probably false that statement was, Annie had no problem using her training to put on a good—and believable—face. "Yeah, it's nice to see you've found a great guy."

"It's great to see you have, too!" Annie's smile faltered a bit because wait, what? "Maybe next I'll be going to _your_ wedding!"

Then, with a wink and a tinkle of laughter, she was gone in a flurry of white tulle. She and Auggie stayed standing like that for a few seconds longer, digesting the new information.

"So she thinks we're dating," Auggie noted, a smile playing on the corners of his lips. "Does that mean—"

"She will not be going to my wedding," Annie cut him off hotly. She didn't need or want to hear whatever doubtlessly inappropriate comments he had to make about Emily's incorrect assumption. "Because there will be no wedding."

"Oh, that's no fun," he complained, bringing her back close to him and starting to dance again. She grumbled a little but let him lead her, still too numb to fight him properly. "Could you imagine? I could make all the guys do the boring wedding grunt work."

Annie stared at him with something akin to horror. "What is wrong with you?" she asked slowly. "You can't force Stu and Barber to make decisions about your wedding."

"Of course not," Auggie assured her. "I would just threaten it. It's not like I would trust them to make real decisions about our wedding."

She made a mental note of the _your_ and _our_ pronouns, but kept it to herself. Instead, she announced, "You're a horrible person."

"And that's why our wedding would be awesome."

"Our wedding that will never happen," she added, reminding him needlessly.

"Awesome," he replied certainly with a nod.

He led her in a quick circle, and she took her time to shake her head at him. Like most other people, weddings made her think of a wedding of her own, but now all she could think of was a future wedding with Auggie. And she wouldn't tell him, but putting together a wedding with him would probably be unfairly fun.

"You can't pretend we're getting married so you can screw with the guys," she pointed out, ignoring her thoughts.

"Who said I'm going to pretend?" he asked, looking down and meeting her eyes with impressive accuracy.

She laughed, mostly out of shock. Only Auggie was that simultaneously delusional and cocky. "I'm putting that under the 'worst marriage proposals ever' list."

Auggie pulled away from her a little bit, replying, "Well, if you want a proper proposal, I can always—"

"No!" she said, almost shouting—and earning a few more looks from strangers—as she grabbed the lapel of his tux with her free hand and yanked him back to her. "You are _not_ fake-proposing to me in front of all of these people."

"Why not?" he asked, feigning cluelessness. His arm settled more firmly around her waist, keeping her flush against him. "Wouldn't most women qualify that as a romantic proposal?"

"It's not real," she hissed between clenched teeth. She kept her grip on his jacket tight, just in case he tried to screw with her again.

"Most people here would assume this was real," he pointed out to her helpfully. "Including the bride. I think that should count for something."

"It does not count for anything," she argued, speaking quickly in low, hushed tones. "You want to know why? Because we're not dating. _And it's not a real proposal_."

He was about to reply, but she let go of his jacket long enough to cover his mouth and hopefully silence any retort. "Don't," she instructed, a semi-crazed glint in her eyes. "Don't talk. Just… dance with me."

Against her fingers, she could feel his lips pull up into a grin. "Fine," he replied, muffled around her hand. She studied him, searching for any signs that he might be screwing with her—again—and when she saw none, she let him go.

"Whatever you say, Mrs. Anderson."

Lots of people—in fact, probably half of the total guests—turned around when Annie wound up and punched Auggie's chest hard enough to make him yelp loudly.

Luckily, no one at the wedding was crazy enough to ask why.


	62. Fever

This is set almost directly after _Delirium_ (56). Add that to the ever-growing pile of arcs I love writing.

$4$

**Acme: **(n.) the highest point of something; the highest level or degree attainable.

* * *

So he found her distracting.

Annie wasn't sure how much she should trust a feverish man, but his comment was too curious to ignore. She knew most of what Auggie had been speaking was pure nonsense—like that jab about her invading his personal space, she never did that—but that last part seemed too peculiar to write off as rambling.

It only took a couple minutes of searching in the bathroom to find what she was looking for—really, she was impressed she found one at all. She couldn't ever remember Auggie taking an actual sick day, so she never expected him to have such a well-stocked medicine cabinet, much less a thermometer.

She was hoping to start researching for a new apartment today and maybe set up a few appointments, but now that was out of the question. Maybe it was for the best. Auggie being sick was probably going to save her from a major migraine. And she would have time tomorrow to house hunt. Maybe Danielle could recommend a good realtor or something—her sister did owe her that much.

She hadn't expected to crash at Auggie's for more than one night, but with Chloe's bug in his system, there was no way she could knowingly leave her blind and delirious best friend alone in his apartment.

"I found a thermometer," Annie announced, uncapping it and eyeing Auggie's prone form. His head was buried under one of his pillows, body wrapped up entirely in blankets.

"Hey, Aug, hon?" she said, leaning over the edge of the bed and gently stirring him. "I need to take your temperature." He shifted under the covers, but otherwise didn't respond.

Annie sat down on the bed, only smiling a little when Auggie jumped like she'd bit him. "It'll only take a minute, I promise."

He grumbled something into his pillow. "What was that?" she prompted.

"Not sick," he muttered, releasing his head from his pillow/blanket cocoon enough to sound sort of clear. "No temperature."

She snickered to herself. "Yeah, I think it's too little too late on that one," she replied, and poked his shoulder until he shifted again and rolled over. "I already know you're sick. I just want to know the full damage."

Annie found the edge of the comforter, yanking it back until she exposed his head. He winced at the movement, and wasn't good enough to cover his latest symptom. "You're shivering," she said, pushing his damp bangs out of his face.

"I know I'm cold," he replied, burrowing further under the blankets but making no attempts to make her remove her hand. "Hence the covers."

His body was trying to break the fever, but she didn't know how long that could take. "C'mon," she wheedled, nudging his jaw with her finger. He tried to duck her hand then, but yawned and she took the opportunity to slide the thermometer under his tongue.

Auggie made a noise of complaint, but didn't fight her anymore. "Sorry for getting you sick, Aug. I think I owe you a new platter of sandwiches."

He shook his head no, but with the fresh black and blue bags under his eyes and his face clammy with sweat, he killed any credibility.

The thermometer beeped loudly and she stopped stroking his bangs and pulled it away. One glance at the screen and she winced.

"What's the damage, doc?" he asked weakly, settling back on the pillows.

Before she could answer, it beeped again and the little computerized chip announced in a clinical voice, "One-hundred-and-three degrees Fahrenheit."

Pulling the comforter up until all but his face was covered, Auggie grinned hazily. "I guess I am pretty sick."

"You guess," she repeated dryly, returning her fingers to his hair as her thumb idly traced his browline.

"Distracting," he mumbled, his eyes drifting shut.

Annie's head tilted in confusion, but she continued to brush back his hair. "I'm still not sure how I qualify as distracting," she told him.

"Your fingers," he answered, curling into her touch. "It's really hard for me to pay attention when you're doing that."

She was tempted to stop, but she remembered less than a half hour ago when she first pulled away from him he looked like she had kicked his puppy. She had assumed it was because he was sick, but now she wasn't sure.

"You like it when I run my fingers through your bangs?" she asked, trying to be as clear as possible.

He nodded, already looking like he was halfway to falling asleep again. Grinning a little, Annie continued her ministrations as she asked, "Is this like your Kryptonite?"

Auggie's eyebrows came together, and she rubbed her thumb along the crease until the lines on his skin smoothed out. "I don't think Kryptonite ever made Superman want to make out with Lois Lane."

That time, her fingers stopped. More accurately, her whole body stopped, hanging on those words. _I don't think Kryptonite ever made Superman want to make out with Lois Lane_. He didn't mean—she couldn't be Lois Lane in that situation. She was his best friend, not the hot intrepid reporter of every boy's dreams.

When she stopped moving, he made a noise that was far too close to a whimper to have ever come out of Auggie Anderson's mouth. Reluctantly, she continued brushing back his hair absentmindedly, but there was no way he could undo what was just done.

Because if she was understanding him right, sick Auggie wanted to make out with her, and unless she could find a real brain eraser, there was no way she was going to forget that.

$4$

_Never know how much I love you / Never know how much I care / When you put your arms around me / I get a fever that's so hard to bear_

I couldn't resist putting up the lyrics. It's such an awesome song. XD


	63. Nonsensical

Set not long after _Echoes_ (60). Yes, I am aware I just wrote that one last week. XD

$4$

**Irrefragable:** (adj.) impossible to refute, incontestable; undeniable.

* * *

Stifling another long yawn, Annie shifted the overnight bag on her shoulder. Another trip, another round of mayhem for the CIA, another week of lost sleep that she would never get back. She really appreciated the repetition, but missed having a dependable sleep habit desperately. Like always, it made her want to quit. Maybe not _quit_, but certainly go on vacation for the next month. Staying over at Auggie's for the weekend was going to have to be close enough.

Annie shoved his door open, pushing her bags in front of her with a series of huffs. The lights were all out, painting the living room in shades of gray. She smiled, dropping her purse and bags by the door so Auggie wouldn't trip on them.

She didn't need to check the time to know it was late—every cell in her body reminded her as much. She stripped out of her jacket and flats, tugging the band out of her braid as she went and shaking her hair free. She dumped the objects on the coffee table, then set to work unbuttoning her blouse and jeans.

Those clothes went into the hamper by his bedroom door—they hadn't even been sleeping together for two months and already they did an equal amount of each other's laundry.

Left in her underwear, Annie headed for Auggie's top dresser drawer. She picked out one of his t-shirts at random, slipping it on and heading straight for his bed.

Auggie was probably out like a light, the bastard. Normally, he would've waited up for her, but she knew—like always—he got as much sleep during the length of her trip as she did. Once it was confirmed she was safely headed home, Stu confided that Joan had ordered him out of the building.

She didn't blame him for heading to bed instead of staying up to wait for her—in fact, she wouldn't have been surprised if he had forgotten about their long weekend plans. She slid under the covers, yawning widely as she snuggled into his heavenly bed.

The second Auggie felt the bed displace her weight, he rolled over, the outline and shape of him just visible.

Annie paused for a second, and then continued settling into bed, pulling the comforter over her shoulder as she whispered, "Hey."

"Hey," he whispered back, voice hoarse and thick from sleep. "How are you?"

"Sleepy," she replied, yawning widely once more.

Auggie reached over, somehow finding her waist perfectly even when he lived in complete darkness. "Then sleep," he told her, pulling her closer to him.

"Okay," she mumbled, rolling over obligingly and burying her face in the clean-smelling skin of his shoulder. "G'night, Aug."

"Night, Annie," he said, already sounding half-asleep. "I love you."

She nodded, inhaling deeply.

Then her eyes popped open.

Shoving herself up on her forearms, she stared down at his form with a comically confused expression on her face. "Did you just say 'I love you?'" she asked, now at normal volume.

Auggie's eyes opened as well, and even without like she could see and feel his body tense with shock. "Umm… possibly."

"You love me," she repeated, dumbfounded.

He was momentarily struck speechless, and settled for shrugging helplessly. This was not how either of them expected this moment to go. "Are you really that surprised?" he asked.

His uncertain, almost sarcastic response made her smile even through her sleep-deprived confusion. "No, not really," she replied.

"So… I'm in love with you," he confirmed, shrugging again and implying the silent 'what can you do?'

Annie studied what she could of his features, an unconscious smile flitting across her face as she did. "So… I'm in love with you too," she said, settling more of her weight across his body.

Auggie looped both his arms around her waist, pulling her completely against him. "So are you going to be like awkward around me at work now?"

She laughed, caging his head with her elbows and playing with his curly hair. "Oh yeah," she agreed, going along with his joke. "Super awkward."

"Great," he fake-groaned, and she muffled her laughter into his shoulder. "Now I'm never gonna get laid."

She laughed even louder than time, and then retaliated by knocking her knee into his thigh and making him flinch. "I really don't think you have any room to complain about that, buddy."

"_Really_," he said, drawing out the word and the implications it entailed. One of his hands slipped up her t-shirt, his fingers dancing up the skin of her spine. She squirmed away from his touch, goosebumps racing along wherever he made contact.

"You're not fair," she whined, burying her face in his collarbone. "I was gonna go to sleep."

Auggie laughed at her whininess, but still continued to trace circles and figure eight patterns into her bare skin. "This is your fault," he replied, lips moving softly against her forehead. "You started this."

"You said you loved me!" she argued, shoving his shoulder with her elbow and temporarily breaking his single-minded concentration of writing the letters of his name into her skin.

"I do!"

"Then let me go to sleep!"

"Fine!"

They settled into a silence for about five seconds, then dissolved into laughter, shaking the bed. "Oh," Annie sighed as she dropped her forehead against his so that their noses touched. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

"Can we go to sleep now?"

"Absolutely."

$4$

Fluff!


	64. Tequila!

A day late once more, and this one is seriously toeing the T line. You guys will learn to forgive me. :)

References to _Residence_ (28) and _Belligerent_ (18) and probably a couple more. Starting to get hard to keep track. XD

$4$

**Sapid: **(adj.) having taste or flavor, especially having a strong, pleasant flavor.

* * *

Annie never had a whole lot of time to watch TV, and any that she did wasn't until after 11pm. This basically translated into spending a lot of her time watching reruns of _Family Guy_ and the worst infomercials ever.

Most nights, she didn't pay much attention to the TV, opting let her mind wander at random and decompress before work started in the morning. Tonight, she didn't have to work until the following day, so felt less guilt staying up a little later than usual.

There was the sound of metal on metal as the locks tumbled and the door slid open. She smiled as Auggie walked in, one hand on the wall keeping him upright.

"Didn't expect you to still be awake," he commented, sliding the door shut behind, locking it again, and setting his keys on the table carefully.

She shrugged, leaning over the edge of the couch. "I felt like watching some bad TV before bed," she answered. Feeling impish, she added, "So how drunk are you, scale of 1 to Hobo Man?"

He laughed as he headed over to the couch. "Certainly not Hobo Man," he replied. "I don't think I can ever get that drunk again without serious repercussions. I'd say about a 4. Maybe a 5."

She stood up and turned off the TV, meeting him halfway. "That's good," she told him, playing with the collar of his sweater. "Hobo Man level was pretty entertaining, but very messy. How's Stu?"

"Ecstatic," Auggie said, tossing his cane and bags to his left on the couch. He hovered closer to her, grinning. "Never seen someone so excited to have asked a Starbucks barista out. Couldn't believe it took him this long."

She smiled, keeping just a teasing distance at all times. "Yeah," she agreed. "He's the only person that's ever taken that long to ask a girl out."

"Yeah, he took forever," Auggie agreed, so close she could count his eyelashes.

"It's not like it took you several years," Annie pointed out, nudging his chest with her knuckle. Putting on a confused face, she pulled back a little. "Oh, wait…"

Before she could lean back any farther, he caught her around the waist and dragged her back to him. "Hey," he fake whined, pulling her flush against his body. "If you hadn't been so difficult, I wouldn't have had to wait so long."

She shoved on his shoulders, but he barely budged. "I did _not_ make you do anything," she argued, trying to twist out of his grasp as he ducked his head under her jaw.

"Then what do you call that nonsense with the wonderful Dr. Scott, hmm?" he mumbled, his lips and teeth moving against her neck making her shiver. "And let's not forget about _Jai_…"

Annie rolled her eyes, her fingers unconsciously curling around the material of his sweater. "You have got to let that one go," she groaned, jumping in his arms when he nipped her collarbone.

Auggie was walking her backwards, but she couldn't actually be bothered to fight him. "God, you're impossible," she replied as her breath hitched several times and her fingers dug even tighter into his clothes. He found that particularly sensitive spot under her ear and teased it until she whimpered.

"I'm aware," he said, finally pulling away from her skin. "Are you really surprised?"

Auggie walked her into the wall, pinning her there neatly as his hands pushed her sleep shirt up. This time, she wiggled for a different reason, finally losing patience and dragging his mouth down to meet hers.

He was grinning against her lips, but she knew how to stop that, tilting her head and deepening the kiss. She twisted her fingers into his hair, tugging on the roots until he groaned into her mouth.

He tasted like tequila, which didn't really surprise her in the slightest because she knew his alcohol preferences As his tongue slid against hers, she could still taste the bitterness mixed with a sharp and sweet bite of salt and lime.

He tasted delicious.

Auggie had her shirt pushed up around her ribcage, fingertips dancing and making her body hum with anticipation.

They finally broke away with a _smack_ and a series of short gasps, and Annie dropped her head back against the wall. Her head was swimming with lust and a lack of oxygen, but she couldn't be bothered to care. "We should probably take this to a different room," she replied breathlessly, licking her bruised bottom lip slowly.

"Seems like that might be a good idea," he replied, his words low and uneven. Leaning closer, a smirk curled across his face as he added, "Unless you don't think you can make it…"

Flushing at the memory, she smacked his side and pushed until he finally released her. "Incorrigible," she repeated, more for her own sake than his, and led him back to their bedroom with a smile.


	65. What Up, Moonpie?

I haven't been able to update _KH_ (sorry guys!) but I had some free time and saw the WotD… :D

This is a day old but I don't think any of you truly mind.

Set after _Close Save _(34).

$4$

**Dorsal:** (adj.) situated on the back.

* * *

Auggie was a special kind of impossible when they finally got back in the car. She expected him to go back to the surveillance van after the nonsense in the aide's office, but apparently he was too amused teasing her to do his job. She threatened to make him walk back to the office, but unfortunately they both knew that would never happen.

He was never going to let her forget how he saved her ass _again_ by taking his shirt off. At least he had the sense of mind to be quiet during the car ride.

Joan was _so_ going to rip her a new one when they got back. She was always a special brand of pissed when Auggie got personally involved with a mission. And unfortunately the only person usually ready to blame was his bestest friend, Annie.

He really needed to stop calling her cute nicknames. She knew without a doubt that was not helping the rumors about them—particularly because Barber was in the van and he couldn't keep his mouth shut if he tried.

The last time Bea cornered her in the cafeteria and demanded to know what Auggie looked like shirtless. She was so disturbed by this she was unable to think of a polite way to excuse herself and instead just bolted.

And really, questions like that just grossed her out. Jesus, this was _Auggie_—fine, yes, he was what most would consider hot, but she didn't pay attention every time he took his shirt off. He was her best friend—like her brother, for God's sake.

Maybe if she repeated it enough times she'd believe it was true.

"So are we even gonna talk about that tattoo?" She hadn't really meant to ask the question, but they were stopped at a red light and truthfully she'd been wondering about that one for a while.

Auggie smirked. "Which one?"

Annie flushed at the implications, but didn't let him know it. "Har har," she replied sarcastically. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

He had his head turned like he was looking out the window but she still saw his grin. "What do you want to know?"

"I don't know," she admitted honestly, the light changing green. She took her foot off the brake as she replied, "I guess I just never expected you to have one so I'm curious."

If she had been able to look at him again she might have seen his expression bitter, but instead all she heard was a snort from him. "Yeah, I guess I'm not the type."

Annie smiled. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far," she said. "I've known plenty of computer nerds to have tattoos. But you're not exactly the traditional computer nerd, either."

Just like that, his expression softened again. "This is hardly fair, you know. How am I supposed to know if you have a tattoo?"

"You don't," she said shortly, and then laughed. "My dad was in the Army and even though I saw a ton of military tattoos in my life, my parents _hated_ them. If Danielle or I ever showed up home with a brand-new tat, I'm pretty sure they would've kicked our asses. Or sent us to military school."

"Mine were the same way," Auggie agreed, growing wistful. "So you're telling me that you or Danielle never wanted to get one once you turned 18?"

"Danielle? Oh, hell no," she told him, laughing even louder. "She was too much of a good girl to revel like that. And even if she wasn't, she never liked tattoos much more than parents. I considered, once, in college. Just to be a rebel. But I never had anything I wanted on my body permanently so I never really got around to it."

Auggie chuckled along with her, and they lapsed into another comfortable silence. Tapping her fingers against the steering wheel, she asked, "So is that why you got yours? Parental rebellion?"

"If I'm going to be honest, partly," he said, turning his head towards hers. "It was right after I was contacted by the CIA. I knew I wanted to go for it, so that was how I celebrated."

Annie's eyebrows arched. "Before you knew you were actually accepted?" she asked, daring to get a good look at him out of the corner of her eye.

His grin was nothing short of dangerous. "I wasn't not going to get accepted."

She whistled low, and shook her head. "Wow," she breathed. "You are unbelievable."

Auggie grinned proudly to himself. "Hey, why do you think I'm so good at saving your ass, _sugarplum?_"

She huffed, rolling her eyes. "You know what?" she shot back. "New rule: you're never allowed to call me sugarplum again. Ever."

He pretended to groan, earning another eye-roll from Annie. "Now where's the fun in that, babydoll?"

"That isn't better. At all."

"Cupcake?"

"Addendum to the new rule: no pet names. Ever. No."

"Where's the fun in that?"

"There is no fun. That's the point."

"Whatever you say, babe."

"No!"

$4$

This was fun and random. :)

So I've been looking at the previews for the next half-season of _CA_, and did anybody else roll their eyes when they saw her on _another_ mission with Eyal? I loved him on _The Mummy_, but he is seriously getting on my nerves on this show.

(But I'm also whiny.)

Also, today's title is a reference to _Big Bang Theory_ (and one of my favorite lines).


	66. Lazy Day

I wasn't planning on posting anything for _KH_ (I have a lot of unfinished projects floating around and I'm almost finished with two of them!) but I saw today's WotD and figured it couldn't hurt.

Post _Electricity_ (53).

$4$

**Kef: **(n.) a state of drowsy contentment.

* * *

Waking up with a hangover always requires a special amount of care, and twice as much when blind. Over the last couple of years, he had long since mastered that particular art, but there was always that inevitable morning when he woke up without a memory of doing anything the night before.

That was what Auggie experienced this particular morning, making the fatal mistake of rolling over and immediately groaned. His head was swimming—turns out the spins were four times worse when vision was taken away—and there was a pounding behind his temples that only meant bad things for the rest of the day.

"Hey, you okay?" Annie's voice somehow floated through the drums in his brain, and it was an almost instantaneous balm on the violence going on inside him. He didn't really remember why she was sharing a bed with him, but there had to be a good reason for it—he wasn't foolish enough to hope for the most obvious and therefore most unlikely answer.

"I'm—" he winced at the volume of his own voice, and then tried again at a lower register. "Well, I'm not dead, as far as I can tell."

She laughed softly, and he felt the mattress shift as she moved closer. "No, you're not dead," she whispered, and he was unbelievably grateful for her quietness. "Though I was starting to worry about that last night."

Truthfully, he remembered next to nothing about the last night, other than the basics—they had gotten drunk, watched a movie, the usual bored-with-nothing-better-to-do standard Friday night line-up. Beyond that everything else was a blur—wait, did he kiss her arm at some point?

"You woke up at like 4 in the morning last night, even drunker than before, and _insisted_ I share the bed with you because the couch 'wasn't comfortable enough.' I only broke down and agreed because I was afraid if I didn't you would keep wandering around and trip and crack your head open."

That explained that. He'd be pretty damn disappointed with himself if it turned out he'd somehow managed to sleep with her and didn't remember a second of it.

"Sorry about that," he said, wincing again, this time more from his drunken belligerent actions than his hangover. "But it is true that my bed's way more comfortable than the couch."

"That may be, but I didn't get to spend a whole lot of time appreciating the actual bed," she replied, and his eyebrows shot up involuntarily. "The second I agreed to share you kind of tackle-hugged me and wouldn't let me go. So I spent most of the night sleeping more on you than the bed."

Auggie's smile curved into an automatic smirk at her poor wording, and she had no problem retaliating with a flick on his nose. It was gentle enough to not disturb his hangover, but he still blinked ineffectually in surprise. "Did you… flick my nose?"

"Yes," she replied proudly. "You were being bad."

"Am I your puppy?" he asked rhetorically, rolling over on his stomach. His head protested the movement, but luckily his pillows all did their job and there wasn't too much pain involved.

"Yup," she answered, and he could feel her snuggling into the pillows and blankets close to him. He ignored the urge to wrap his arm around her waist and drag her closer because he figured she'd probably do a lot worse than flick his nose.

"Can we just stay here all day?" he mumbled into his pillow, changing the subject to get away from his thoughts. Besides, his bed _did_ feel kind of amazing at the moment. Moving seemed like too impossible a task.

Annie hummed, and he felt her light touch on his shoulder. "Hangover that bad?" she asked, and he nodded once into his pillow, and then groaned pitifully. That hadn't been the best idea, in retrospect.

She rubbed small circles into his shoulder blade, and the muscle almost immediately relaxed. "Sorry, Aug," she commiserated. "If you want you can loaf in bed and I can make us an anti-hangover breakfast if you want."

While oddly touched by the gesture, at the moment her hand was doing wonderful things to his shoulder and he knew that the second she moved the heat in the bed would be displaced and he'd have to rearrange the sheets and blankets to compensate for her loss and it would be an even bigger mess for his migraine… "Don't go," he said, pulling his head out of the pillows long enough to turn and face her. She paused, uncertain, so he felt compelled to add, "Just be lazy with me for a while. Please."

It was that please that did it, they both knew it, because Annie was suddenly more pressed against his side, not quite snuggling with him but close enough and he grinned.

They might need to do this again someday.

$4$

It's late, but I was determined to finish it before I went to sleep.

I didn't think last night's episode was too bad… I'm disappointed Peter Gallagher wasn't more badass (we couldn't have him punch somebody again?). And I don't think Auggie's girlfriend is awful. Parker at least seems cute, which is a major step up from that Liza nonsense last season.

(And I seriously only remember her name because she shares the same first name as my favorite character on _Leverage_. My life is that sad.)


End file.
